


Kudos by StonyFan1918

by RiaRose



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bathtub Sex, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Characters Reading Fanfiction, Characters Writing Fanfiction, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Crack Treated Seriously, Eventual Happy Ending, Felching, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Humor, Idiots in Love, Jarvis (Iron Man movies) is a Good Bro, M/M, Mutual Pining, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Public Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Smut, Team as Family, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Tony-centric, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22645444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaRose/pseuds/RiaRose
Summary: Narrowing his eyes, Clint took his seat at the island again, "Who are you ship (shipped?) with?""Mostly Steve." And Clint knew that look. "But, honestly? Everyone. I'm a whore.""No arguments there.""And I'm usually the bottom."Clint's eyes went wide. "You look far too happy about that.""Oh, Clinty, don't you know? I take it like a champ!"ORJarvis plays matchmaker, Steve and Tony are clueless, everyone else figures it out, and Natasha is so over oblivious boys it almost borders on the ridiculous.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 266
Kudos: 560





	1. A New Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this, 100% on my friend Shannon. She knew I needed a break from Like Broken Glass because of how heavy it is and decided to feed my Stony bunnies whatever the fuck this is.
> 
> It's crack taken seriously, but it's fun. So, sit back, relax, enjoy, and what the fuck is a fourth wall anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I edited this chapter to hopefully make it better. ❤💙 The story will be slowly renovated. This was one of my first attempts back into writing after ten years and since I've completed it, most of what I learned has come back to me. 10/28/2020

Steve had sworn that if Tony fell asleep in the workshop one more time, he was going to convince Jarvis to lock it down until the genius got a full eight hours in his own bed. It was testament to how they had grown as a team that Tony took him seriously and did his best to stay awake long enough to make it up the penthouse. He was doing good too, almost a full month and not even a catnap on the sofa. Until late one Thursday night in February when he jerked awake at the sound of his cellphone going off, a pencil sticking to his cheek.

"Ah, fuck." But Steve hadn't caught him, so it didn't count. Right? He blinked his bleary eyes open, confused for a moment as to where the sound was coming from. His phone was too bright when he picked it up, and Tony blindly turned the backlight to low before dropping down the menu to see his notifications. 

_ (1) New Email _

Rubbing his eyes and flicking the pencil away, Tony tapped open the StarkMail app, leaning his head on his hand as he watched it open. What the actual fuck was JARVIS emailing him for? But there it was: an unread email from the account he had set up for JARVIS to send him important work and tech related things. Not for fun. Not to galavant around on the internet like artificial intelligence was never supposed to do. He'd seen Terminator; he wasn't an idiot (yet).

"J?" he queried softly, eyes glancing upwards and damn the team for getting him into that habit! 

"I thought you'd enjoy this, sir." JARVIS spoke, a hint of computerized sarcasm in his artificial voice. He sounded a bit too smug for something not real in the corporeal sense. 

Tony tapped open the link in the email, his eyebrows raising you to his hairline. "Huh."

"Told you so." JARVIS' voice took on a sing-song quality that Tony didn't remember programming. He had to, he knew, because JARVIS did nothing without Tony's code. Must have been a rum night. 

Scrolling down through the website once it loaded, Tony furrowed his brows.  _ Archive of Our Own, _ he read to himself, and scrolled down to the story.

###  Falling Together by StonyFan1918

_ Avengers RPF _

**_No Archive Warnings Apply Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Tony Stark Steve Rogers First Time Anal Sex Blowjobs Clint is a Good Bro Howard Stark's A+ Parenting Idiots in Love Smut Angst Angst With Happy Ending Fluff Explicit M/M_ **

"You don't know shit," Tony spit out. "Why are you even here? You don't even like me."

Steve sighed, his heart breaking just a little as he realized just how damaged Tony was. It just made him love the genius even more. "That's not true. I'm worried about you. We are all. We care about you and you've been avoiding us."

"Have not."

"Tony. Don't. I know what's going on. I know what Howard did to you. I know what date it is."  _ And I love you.  _ But that was better left unsaid, wasn't it? 

OR

Steve comforts Tony on the anniversary of his parents' death. It doesn't start out as planned, but it ends better than either could have hoped.

-

  
  


"JARVIS?" Tony asked, glancing up from his phone. That conversation in the summary seemed awfully familiar, but the fact that it was  _ him  _ \- as in Tony Stark - and  _ Steve _ being referenced had the blood rushing to his face. "What is this?" He read through it again, eyes lingering on  _ Avengers RPF. _

"I believe your fans call it Stony, sir."

"What the fuck is that?"

"Steve and Tony combined. They  _ ship _ you." JARVIS paused, knowing Tony enough to answer the questions he hadn't yet asked out loud. "RPF stands for Real Person Fiction."

Tony made a face. "Real Person Fiction? Ship?" In his mind, he was flipping through a rolodex, trying to find something familiar to tie these words together. It wasn't often he was struck with something wholly new. But nothing was connecting, he knew nothing of  _ ships  _ or the fact that there were people out there that loved them enough to devote this type of time and energy to the Avengers.

"As in relation _ ship," _ JARVIS enunciated, "these are called  _ fanfiction  _ and those who consider themselves fans of the Avengers Initiative compose them for other fans to read. I believe it is fun for them to imagine you all in make believe situations. Wish fulfillment, if I may."

"Wish fulfillment?" Tony repeated, the pieces starting to fit together in his mind. "This is...sex? Between me and Steve?" Tony's pants became a little tight. If only the fans knew just how badly he actually wanted that. "Okay. Cool."  _ Cool, cool, cool, cool…  _

So he read. And maybe he touched himself under the table and maybe he made Dum-E clean it up. But how could he not when a fictional Steve was fucking him deeply? And where the fuck was his vibrator when he needed it?

\---

In the morning, Tony emerged from his workshop, pliant and satisfied. StonyFan1918 had a vivid imagination and lots of different stories. Each had its own plot, but almost all of them ended the same way: with Tony getting the fucking he had fantasized about getting from Steve for the past year since he'd met the man. 

He  _ loved _ fanfiction. Fanfiction was fucking  _ fantastic!  _

Tony had come three times, which was a feat. His record was five in one night, but he was 22 then. Whole different ballgame. He was young and virile, energetic and ready to go. These days, his body was slowing down, even if his libido tried to stay the course. He had managed to bust a nut twice in one night a few months ago, but three times? 

He was proud as fuck. Apparently with the right mental simulation, the world was his oyster. Aphrodisiac pun intended! 

After a shower and a pitiful look at his exhausted dick, he took the stairs to the common area, needing to get his blood flowing away from his poor, abused, and sore cock. It felt good to jog up the steps. Invigorating. He had more energy than usual, which obviously meant that masturbation should be added to his workout.

_ Something, something, endorphins, something. _

"Morning, fellow Assvenger!" He bellowed, stepping into the kitchen with a little too much gusto for the resident archer, the only one present.

Clint snorted from his place at the kitchen island, a giant Bugs Bunny mug hiding half of his face. "Not your best."

"They can't all be winners." Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he grinned over his shoulder. "I love the zoom zoom juice." He chuckled, drinking half the mug in one go. 

"Zoom zoom juice?"

"Fast juice! Coffee!" Tony threw the hand that wasn't holding the mug up in the air, exasperated. "Keep up, man!"

"You feeling okay, Stark?"

Tony ignored him, too excited to share what JARVIS had shown him. "Guess what I found last night!?" He bent over the kitchen island, a manic grin on his face.

"The last fledgling of sanity somewhere at the bottom of a toolbox?" Clint teased, but Tony was sure he enjoyed the Stark brand of exuberance. He kept things interesting, at the very least.

"Nah, lost that in my teens." Tony flipped his hand out, his cellphone screen on and opened to StonyFan1918's author page. "Looky!"

"Are you actually an adult?" Clint laughed, taking the phone and glancing down at it before catching Tony's eyes again.

"In some states."

Clint snorted, and scrolled. "What the fuck is this?" He asked, raising his eyebrows. A hint of blush colored his cheeks and he set his coffee mug down dangerously close to the edge of the counter. Tony hastily corrected it.

"Our fans are zealous. In the best way. Refill?"

"Uh, sure," Clint mumbled, his eyes scanning back and forth along the screen. "Are these...are these stories about us?"

Tony nodded, a giant grin on his face. "It's called fanfiction. A whole new world has opened up to me, Barton." Turning, he grabbed the carafe and swung back again to fill Clint's cup and then his own.

"You've been busy."

"Read them all. Last night. There's stories focusing on you too." Opening the refrigerator, he plucked the creamer Clint preferred from the shelf and added it to his coffee. "You've got some devoted fans, mister!" 

Clint choked on his drink. "Me?!"

"Oh yeah. Slash is the most popular it seems. But there's non-romantic ones as well." Tony looked a bit too excited. "They ship you with Natasha a lot, that's called  _ het, _ but they like you with Coulson too."

"But he's dead," he pointed out lamely.

Tony threw his arms up, "That's the beauty of it! It's fiction! He doesn't have to be dead!" His face was bright with his smile. "I told you! A whole new world!"

"If you start singing _ Aladdin,  _ I'm out of here." Which was a lie, Clint and Thor were his secret Disney sing along buddies. "So Slash is...what exactly? Gay relationships?"

Tony nodded, "Smut is pure porn, also called PWP - porn without plot, but some of them, like StonyFan1918, write these long and amazing stories, building up to it. They write one-shots too, short stories. Beautiful, beautiful smut."

"How do you know all this?" Clint sighed, standing to grab a danish from the box on the counter. His face was awash with his inner thoughts: it was too early for this. Which was also a lie. It was never too early for porn. 

"Genius, remember? I learned it all last night."

"And why are you excited about this?" Sitting again, Clint gestured to Tony's phone still in his hand.

Tony shrugged, looking a little guilty. "I just am."  _ Way to bust my bubble, Barton. _

Narrowing his eyes and not looking ashamed at all for calling Tony out, Clint adjusted in his seat and leaned forward, "Who are you ship - shipped? - with?"

"Mostly Steve as far as I've seen." And Clint knew that look, and Tony knew that Clint knew. Oops. "But, honestly? Everyone. I'm a whore."

"No arguments there."

"And I'm usually the bottom."

Clint's eyes went wide, but could he really be all that shocked? "You look far too happy about that."

"Oh, Clinty, don't you know? I take it like a champ!"

"I bet you do." Wiggling the phone to bring the attention back to it, Clint said, "So this Stony person - wait is that Steve and Tony? Never mind, I get it - but they're your favorite?"

"Oh yeah. The dialogue, what they write, it sounds natural, like how we actually are. It's like they know us!" Giddily, Tony bounced on the balls of his feet. As if the idea of someone paying that close of attention to the way the Avengers moved and spoke wasn't weird at all.

Clint made a face. "That doesn't seem creepy to you?"

"My whole life, Barton, I'm used to it." Tony raised his mug to the window, saluting the public with a raise of his eyebrows and a sardonic, self-deprecating grin. 

"Well, that's kind of sad," said Clint, slowly scrolling again in a rather obvious ploy to ignore the big, fat elephant of Tony's life standing in the room.  _ Aww, Barton, you  _ do _ love me!  _

Tony just flailed his hand nonchalantly. "Read the first one. It's really good."

"Only if you pop some waffles into that toaster."

Tony was already grabbing the box from the freezer, "Yeah, yeah, do it! You won't be disappointed, I promise you!"

So Clint read. And he read. And he read. When his waffles were cold, Tony took his phone back and texted him the link. "Stop running my battery down. Eat your Eggos. Or they're mine."

"Leggo my Eggo," Clint mumbled, pulling the page up on his own phone. Tony didn't miss the way he shifted uncomfortably.  _ Oh, so that's how it was? _

By afternoon, Natasha and Bruce had also been drawn into it. By dinner, Thor was on a borrowed tablet, tucked into the couch and reading like it was Jane Eyre and not stories about his shield brothers having massive quantities of anal sex.

They ate in the living room, blindly picking up Chinese food boxes and shoving chow-mein into their mouths without looking up from their screens. When Steve arrived, exhausted and back from DC, Bruce silently took his phone and pulled up the page, handing it back to the soldier and picking his own back up. He had barely spared the blond a glance.

"Hello to you all too. I had a lovely time in our nation's capital. Fury is a slave driver, as per usual." His sarcastic tone went ignored. "I thought we were going to watch a movie?" There was definitely a pout there, and Tony finally raised his head, swallowing when he saw how absolutely adorable Steve looked like that.

"Head movies," Clint muttered. And Tony snickered, glad for the distraction.

"Head. You got that right." 

Clint raised his hand for a high five and Tony obliged. Neither were paying attention, of course, and they missed each other's hands, which just sent them into a fit of giggles. 

Steve was lost, but he sat next to Tony and started scrolling. "Wait. Oh my god. Wait, is this..." His face was going red. "Where did you find this? I thought, I mean, I could have sworn..."

"Relax, Cap." Tony interrupted, blindly patting at his shoulder. "The fans just like to imagine." 

"With very lovely imaginations," Natasha chuckled without looking up.

"The fans..." Steve's eyes went wide. "Right. The fans. Yeah, they're, uhm, they're creative."

Tony snorted. "Oh yeah. But this one, StonyFan1918 -- Bruce that's the page you gave him, right?" Bruce nodded in response and Tony had to tear his eyes away from the screen to see the it. "They're really good. But they keep glossing over the prep."

"What do you mean, Anthony?" Thor said, finally looking up. His cheeks were the barest hint of red.

"I like the prep. I like being fingered. It's half the fun. Fingers get my prostate just right."

Steve blanched, "Tony! What are you...you like this?"

There was a face he made, it was brief, but Tony filed it away. Interesting. "Love being fucked," he smirked, aiming to make Steve blush. He was just too pretty when he did that. "Love having fingers in me, stretching me. Feels fucking amazing."

"I gotta go." And Steve was gone before they even had a chance to notice.

\---

At dawn the next day, Tony realized with a start that he had barely slept in 48 hours. He had made his way through the entirety of StonyFan1918's stories and all their bookmarks. It was amazing.

It was fun.

It was exhausting in the best way.

And he had masturbated to completion once more. God, his dick was going to be bruised if he kept this up. Reluctantly, he plugged his phone in and started the shower. Might as well get the smell of sex off of him, even if it was solo sex. And no, he wasn't going to touch that with a ten foot pole. He was okay being single.

Really.

It was fine.

So what if he was in love with Steve? So what if that's the only person he wanted? At least now he had fanfiction!  _ Hello, silver lining!  _

Head under the stream of hot water, he ignored how ridiculously pathetic he was. At least if he didn't acknowledge it he could pretend it was totally normal to read stories about his super secret crush banging him. Under the hot stream, he didn't hear his phone going off. And off. And off. Not until he was naked on his bed, toweling the stray beads of water did he notice.

_ (12) New Messages _

They were all from Clint. He didn't even read them, just hit his speed dial, and flipped backwards, spreading his legs to air dry the boys out.

He was rich. That didn't mean he was classy.

Clint answered in the fourth ring. "Do you not look at your phone? Dude!"

"Good morning, Clinton."

Clint scoffed, and Tony grinned knowingly, "Don't call me that, Anthony."

"Twelve messages. That's excessive, even for you. What's up?" Rolling into his stomach, Tony reached out for one of his pillows, fingers just gripping the corner to tug it down the bed and under his head.

"Did you read them? Or did you just call me?" Was Clint...panting? Why would he be...? Oh. That was a fun development. 

Tony rolled his eyes. "What do you think? And why are you out of breath?"

The heavy breathing stopped. "I'm not. I was, uh, on the treadmill."

"Are you jacking off?!" Tony couldn't say he was upset at that, if anything, that sparked quite a bit of interest in him. He always was far too interested in the sex lives of the people in his circle. They were all gorgeous, could you really blame a guy? 

"Hey! I tried texting you, but then you called anyway!"

"Why are you doing that when you're trying to talk to me anyway?" But Tony's dick took interest in that. It wasn't Steve, but he knew he'd never kick Clint out of his bed either. All gorgeous. Every single one of them.

"StonyFan1918 updated. New story." The panting began again. "You get fingered. Like really well. Enjoy, bye!" Tony heard a moan before the phone went dead.

Clint was jerking off to the visuals of the story. To the idea of Steve fingering Tony. Oh, yum. But that was a fantasy for another day. He mentally placed that image in his personal spank folder and opened up the internet on his cell. What he needed at that moment was his phone to load the page and...there it was.

His neck lifted from the mattress to look at his dick, "It's okay, boy, we can just read. I'll let you rest."

  
  


_ Steve loved the way Tony's eyes looked in the light. The dark brown reflected the sun and turned into spun gold, glimmering with the reflection of the waves. They were beautiful. _

_ Licking his lips, he studied the man before him. Red swim trunks, bronzed olive skin, defined muscles, and his hair, God, his hair. Mused and perfect. Natural, now that he had nowhere to be, and Steve ached to run his fingers through it. _

_ So he did. _

_ Tony mewed in appreciation. "I like that," he said, tilting his head to give Steve better access. _

_ "I know." _

_ They were alone. A small house on a private beach, stretched across the eastern south shore of Long Island, just a little weekend getaway for the two lovers. _

_ "Touch me," Tony purred, and Steve couldn't say no. _

  
  


"How are you still awake?" Tony groaned at his dick as it twitched. "You masochist." But he wrapped a steady hand around it, pumping slowly, and continued to read.

_ The wetness of the swim trunks clung to Tony's skin; Steve had to practically peel them off, but it was so worth it. "Beautiful," he murmured, tracing around the base of his cock. Tony reached out and dragged the beach bag closer, fumbling through until his hands closed around the bottle of lube. _

_ "I need you in me, fucking now!" _

_ Steve laughed—he loved Tony's impatience—and took the bottle from him. "Open up for me, Love." _

_ Laying back, Tony spread his legs, planting his feet in the sand and popping his hips up. Steve wasted no time in coating his fingers and slipping one inside him. _

"Fucking sand though!" But Tony's body didn't care. He rolled his hips up into his fist, squeezing with just enough pressure to feel good. The phone fell to his chest and he reached his other hand around to play with his opening. "Fuck yes. Where's my lube?" He sat up with a jolt, flapping his body across the bed to tear open his nightstand and grab the little jar. Next to it was his vibrator.  _ Ah, there it was! _

"Jarvis, put what's on my phone on the screen above the bed. I'm going to need two hands. Also, sorry for involving you."

"Of course, sir. And do not fret, I'm used to it."

  
  


_ The feel of Steve's fingers inside him had Tony keening. They stretched him, moving around, pulsing against his prostate, and Tony fisted the sand, his neck taut, and his body arched. "Right there!" he groaned. And Steve slipped another finger inside. _

  
  


Tony lubed the thin vibrator and pressed it against himself before flicking it on. The buzz shook him, and he moaned. "Fuck." It wasn't Steve's fingers, but it would do! 

  
  


_ With his other hand, Steve intertwined their fingers, he loved this. He loved Tony. Loved making him come as much as he loved making him happy. _

_ Pressing his fingers against Tony's spot, he pushed slightly and rubbed back and forth. Tony yelled out a moan, "Oh God, yes!" _

_ "You wanna come like this?" Steve asked, and took a long lick up the underside of Tony's dick. _

  
  


Tony pushed the vibrator in, angling immediately against his prostate and pushed. The feeling sent his legs shaking as his cock finally filled. Again.

"Oh, fuck," he moaned. "Jarvis scroll down!"

  
  


_ Tony's free hand, covered in sand, flailed out and gripped Steve's hair. "Come on, baby. I need it!" And Steve took him fully into his mouth. Tony groaned, tugging Steve's hair and lifting his hips, "Oh fuck, you're incredible!" _

_ Steve just hummed in response, sending the vibrations through Tony's body and into his balls. He pulled his fingers out and plunged them back in, fucking him with the digits, and hitting his prostate each time he slipped back inside. _

_ Tony brought his knees up, pulling his hand away from Steve's to grip the blond hair with both. "Ooh, God, fuck me!" _

_ Steve complied, sucking hard on the tip of Tony's cock before dropping his head to take him all, deep-throating him. His fingers never stilled, he kept them crooked upwards, so every thrust of them into Tony had him gasping in pleasure. _

  
  


Back in his bedroom, Tony was undone. His chest was covered in sweat, and his legs shook in the air as he fucked himself with the vibrator. The hand on his cock firm and copying what the fictional Steve was doing with his mouth. He was gasping his moans, his body overcome with the pleasure of reading and visualizing and doing.

"Steve!" he moaned, viscerally glad that the walls were soundproof, "Fuck, Steve! Fuck me!"

  
  


_ Tony came with a shout, his back arching and his head thrown back, digging into the sand. And Steve drank it all, continuing to pulse against his prostate until Tony was whining with overstimulation. When he finally tugged his fingers from the pliant hole, he wasted no time in pulling himself up Tony's body and kissing him, groaning as Tony licked the taste of himself off of Steve's tongue. _

_ "Fuck. I'll have seconds." _

_ Steve laughed in Tony's neck. His precious, incorrigible sweetheart. He loved every inch of him! _

  
  


Tony's breath was gone. He held steady on the toy, keeping it pressed against the spot inside him that made him see stars. His hips undulated as he humped it, fucking himself hard.

His moans were shortened, coming out in tiny spurts as his balls drew tight to his body and with a final twist on the head of his cock, he was coming. Back and ass lifting from the bed as his feet planted heavily into the sheets, yelling out as his come -- the little he had left! -- spilled over his fist, the vibrator still held against his prostate, wave after wave of unadulterated pleasure rolling through him.

Tony screamed, "Steve!" And fell back against the bed. Boneless. Satisfied.

Pulling the vibrator from his ass, he tossed it in the general direction of his nightstand and wiped his hand on the corner of his sheet. Then he slept, longer and deeper than he had in a long while. And if he dreamed of Steve's smile, his eyes, and his lips wrapped around his cock, no one else was the wiser.

\---

When Tony finally woke, it was near two in the afternoon. He rolled over onto his side and winced. Well. He had basically wrecked his penis for the day.

_ Oops.  _ But what a way to go!

After he dressed, he trudged downstairs into the kitchen and saw that the whole team had gathered. Steve was at the stove, adding vegetables to a pot, and the others were seated around the kitchen island, each with their nose buried into their phone, Thor's in a tablet, of course.

Clint looked up as he entered, giving Tony a cheeky grin.

"Enjoy your wank, Barton?" Tony shot out, grinning and wagging his eyebrows.

"Immensely. You?"

"Don't remember coming so hard in a long time."

Steve choked and several carrots tumbled to the floor, he scurried after them.

"You're scaring Rogers," Natasha said, eyeing the two, "and how did you know-"

"He called me when I was in the middle," answered Clint, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. He shrugged and sent a wink in Tony's direction.

"He texted me like fifty times about the new story. So I just called him." Rolling his eyes at the wink, Tony leaned against the counter, adjusting lightly when his used dick brushed the inside of his pants the wrong way.

"Can we change the topic?" Steve groused, picking up the fallen vegetables and tipping them into the garbage. "Please?"

"Fine." Natasha said. "Let's talk about StonyFan1918's new story!"

"What?! Are you guys still on that?" Steve's face was losing color. He hurriedly looked away, back to the stove.

"Of course. Why do you think Clint and I were jerking off this morning? 

This time, it was celery toppling to the floor.

Bruce was chuckling, taking delight in shocking Steve. He didn't show it often, but he was as much a troll as the rest of them. "Looks like you got your wish, Tones."

"Oh yeah," Tony moaned out, filling a mug with coffee. He was feeling sweet, so he opened the fridge and added some French Vanilla creamer. Tilting his head at Bruce, he grinned. "Ask and you shall receive indeed!"

"That is right!" Thor exclaimed, pounding his hand on the table, "You mentioned last night about wanting more use of fingers in the stories, and you got it!"

"Maybe tonight StonyFan1918 will write about rimming!" Squeezing his eyes shut, Tony crossed his fingers. "Rimming. Rimming. Write about rimming!"

"You like that?" Bruce asked, but he didn't look disgusted. Tony was grateful; no one was as accepting of Tony as his Brucie Bear.

"Oh, Brucie Woocie! You have no idea!"

"Learning a lot about you, Tony."

Tony laughed loudly, "Come on, you guys, you know I'm a lady in the streets and a freak in the sheets!" The amount of groaning made him laugh even harder.

Steve, shit, Steve looked scandalized. "Tony, are you gay?" His voice was quiet and contemplative, but Tony heard an edge to it.

He turned his head to give Steve a look, trying to gauge his reaction. "Bisexual, actually. Does that bother you, Rogers?" he snapped, rounding on Steve, his heart cracking but he attempted to put up a fierce front. If Steve was homophobic, all the fanfiction in the world couldn't patch up the hole inside him. 

Frozen for all of a second, Steve recovered and held his hands up in a placating manner. "No! No! I swear!"

Natasha was shooting daggers at him. "Steve," she said dangerously, standing and stepping protectively in front of Tony, "love is love. You got something to say, you say it to me."

"Natasha! I swear! I don't have a problem with it!" He stepped forward, just a little, testing the waters. "I was just curious, that's all."

She stared at him, trying to judge his intentions. Apparently, he passed inspection and she relaxed. "Okay. Good." She sat and Steve let out a breath. He turned to Tony.

"Really, it's okay. Honest. I don't care about that."

Tony nodded, but didn't speak. It felt like something was caught in his throat. Something sandy and hard. He swallowed.

"Anyway," Bruce tried to change the subject back to something they all enjoyed, "love the addition to StonyFan1918's anthology." His powers of redirection were enviable.

"I like the way they write. It's sweet. You can see how much Steve loves Tony in their stories." Natasha provided, jumping in to help Bruce in his endeavor. "It's cute."

"Sweet? Cute?" Tony balked. "Who are you?"

Natasha glared at him. "Just because I care about you doesn't mean I won't castrate you."

"And  _ there _ she is!"

Thor gave a booming laugh, "Natasha, I truly enjoy your humor!"

"Not sure she's kidding," Clint chuckled. When she turned her glare at him, he promptly turned to Steve. "How's that soup coming, Cap?" Redirections all around! 

Steve was just happy to have the subject switched from fanfiction and it showed on his handsome, beautiful, perfect features. "Needs about a half, gotta simmer the vegetables."

"Smells good," Clint complimented. And it did. Tony inhaled deeply. Steve was so domestic, he contrasted Tony in every way. They would be so happy together, he knew it. But Steve could never love him, not like that, not like StonyFan1918's stories. So he'd have to eat his soup as a friend. And live vicariously through fiction.

  
  
  



	2. Badonkadonk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like Wesley from The Princess Bride, StonyFan1918 apparently heard Tony's request of rimming and gave a big ol' AS YOU WISH. Also, something else happens, there's some smut, and maybe something with a smug Natasha? I don't know, you guys are acting like I wrote this shit.
> 
> OH WAIT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look. I don't even know anymore. I'm having so much fun with this.
> 
> Also, yes, is this a fic within a fic? Fiception? Yeah, probably. Will Leonardo DiCaprio make an appearance? Probably not.

Chapter Two: Badonkadonk

Two days later and it was Bruce calling Tony, interrupting his marathon work session in the workshop and smugly speaking. "There's another story up. Guess what it's about?"

"Bruce, Bruce, no distractions, mon cheri. I am in the pinnacle of genius. The creativity juices are flowing abundantly-"

"And the Academy Award for most dramatics in a comedy goes to-"

"Don't say it!" Tony warned. But as usual, Bruce has no qualms putting Tony in his place.

"Anthony Edward Stark!"

"Prick."

"StonyFan1918 posted a new story."

Tony huffed, annoyed at the excitement he felt stirring in his pants. "I need the blood to flow to my brain, Banner. Not my dick."

But Bruce ignored him. "Ask me what it's about?"

"Brucie. Brucie Bear. My adoring science bro, my intellectual equal-"

"Rimming, Tony. It's about rimming." And Tony could hear the self-satisfied grin through the line.

_It was nice seeing you, productivity._

"I hate you." Tony paused, shifting on the stool and looking longingly at his projects. "Rimming?"

"How do you say, ah yes. Eating ass." Bruce said, "Steve Rogers, your super secret crush, eating your ass."

Tony choked. "Bruce!" _No, no, no, blood come back to the brain!_

"Also, you're draped over a railing in Central Park."

Tony's hand dropped to his lap, flattening and palming his dick, which had sprung to life like an alarm clock in the morning. "Have I mentioned I hate you?" Tony moaned, unable to help himself.

"Have you realized that if you mention a kink suddenly it's in the next story?" Bruce said, ignoring what Tony was obviously doing. This was his best friend, and sometimes when it came to besties, you looked the other way.

"What?"

"Well, I mean first you mentioned fingering. And then you get fingered on the beach-"

"-Wish I got fingered on the beach."

"-Then you say rimming, and now there's a story about that." Bruce finished.

"But I never said anything about public fucking." Tony added.

"Ha! I knew you were freaky!"

Tony rolled his eyes, removing his hand from his dick. This was going to be one of those long conversations, wasn't it? "Bruce. Old news."

"So are you going to read it?"

"Well, I kind of have to now!"

"No one is forcing you, Tones." Bruce said, his voice a playful patronizing.

Tony balked, "Excuse me? Who's the one who all but demanded I drop all my projects to read. As well as my pants."

"I have no interest in you dropping your pants, Stark."

With a grin, Tony said, "Doubt that."

"Not everyone wants you, you know." _Bruce Banner, ladies and gentlemen!_ _ **Ego killer!**_

"Says you."

"Oh baby. I want you. Oh baby, oh baby, oh baby. Yeah." Bruce dead-panned.

Tony laughed, "You should be so lucky."

"Shut up. Go read. Don't jack off on any pro-bono projects."

"But, Brucie Bear!" Tony exclaimed, "Then they'd be glow in the dark!"

"Gross." And he hung up.

Tony laughed quietly to himself. Bruce tried, he really did, to go tit for tat with Tony, but really, who could win against the king of banter?

Leaning forward, his elbows bracing on the table, Tony swiped through his phone, tapping the internet open and refreshing StonyFan1918's page, which he had never cleared from his browser.

On the top, under recent stories, was the newest one.

**A Taste of Tony**

Now the question. Did he stay in the workshop, make himself comfy on the couch for what was most likely going to be a supreme masturbation session, or take the long trek up to the penthouse and get cozy in his bed.

It wasn't like Tony didn't keep lube in the workshop. He kept it everywhere. I mean, you honestly just didn't know when the right moment would just...pop up.

Tony was obviously a Boy Scout in another life.

He spared a glance at the glass wall to his right. And if someone were to come down? Tony shrugged. If it was the team, they probably knew why. If it was Steve...maybe he'd join him? Probably not. But Tony knew how he looked in the throes of passion. There were enough leaked sex tapes to confirm that. Modesty was lame, after all.

But was it enough to entice Steve? That was most likely a no. The soldier was almost stereotypically heterosexual.

There was also the chance of Pepper, Rhodey, or even Happy seeing him. But that was slim, wasn't it? And it wasn't like they weren't used to his...sexcapades.

Which was such a dumb idiom, really. It made him think of sex on ice.

To make his decision, Tony started to read. Just the beginning, he thought, just to see how badly he wanted to finish and if it was worth waiting until he got to his own bed.

_The beauty of Central Park was that it was a natural oasis in the middle of concrete. But the beauty of Tony was that he could be anywhere and still look like a piece of art. Under the street lights along the winding paths, Tony's skin glowed. Like he was ethereal. An angel. And to Steve, he was._

_Perfection personified. A beautiful glowing entity, somehow all his own, all Steve's. His forever, to love, to worship, to fuck._

_And he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Tony loved every second._

_It was late, and they were on one of the lesser known paths, too far off the main routes for tourists, and hidden enough that even the casual walker or jogger at this time had no interest. Beyond the wrought iron fences surrounding Manhattan's inner gem, a city pulsed with activity: taxies, pedestrians, drunkards, bums, hot-dog carts, men peddling comedy shows, an Elmo, and a Naked Cowboy. Fluid life, streaming through the streets, the smell of the subway and soft pretzels, tar, and something sweet. But here, in the hazy darkness of Central Park, life slowed._

_Tony jogged ahead of him to jump onto a lamppost, using his feet to anchor himself around it's sleek and classic black design. He bent back, one arm raised above his head, and yelled. "I LOVE STEVE ROGERS!"_

_"Tony!" Steve exclaimed. "Tony, quiet! Someone might hear you!"_

_"I don't care! I want to SHOUT TO THE WORLD! HEY! NEW YORK! I LOVE STEVE ROGERS! I, ANTHONY EDWARD STARK, LOVE STE-MMPHF!" Steve had also jumped into the lamppost, balancing one foot on the fat base and kissing Tony to shut him up._

_"I love you too, idiot. Now hush! Or we'll be in the morning news!" But Steve was laughing. Tony's exuberance was infectious._

_"How much?" Tony asked, hoping down and taking Steve's hand, pulling him off the post._

_"How much what?" Steve asked._

_Tony smiled, "How much do you love me?"_

_"How much do I...Tony!" Steve was laughing, joy bubbling up, "I love ya so much even the stars can't quantify it!"_

_"Oh, that was cheesy. Even for you!"_

_Steve laughed again, "Fine! I love you so much that if all I had to taste for the rest of my life was you, I'd gladly lick up every drop."_

_"Now, see, that I can get behind."_

_"Oh?"_

_Tony stopped moving and turned, pressing his body up against Steve's and kissing little pecks up his neck, sending shivers down Steve's spine. When he reached his ear, he whispered, "I'd love for you to get a taste right now."_

Tony jolted when his phone started to ring in his hand, already consumed by the story. "Ah, fuck." It was Natasha, not that it was a bad thing, but he had to answer, just in case.

"You've reached the automated answering system of Tony Stark's Masturbation Hot-line. Please leave a message after the beep." he paused for dramatic effect. "Beep."

"You're a child."

"What can I do ya for, Natashalie. Business or pleasure?" Tony said, standing and stretching. Looked like he was going to be staying in the workshop. His couch was comfy as hell anyway.

"Pleasure, actually."

"Is that so?" Tony smirked.

He heard Natasha groan, "Again. You're a child. Anyway, wanted to know if you read the new story yet."

Tony made a face, he was trying to! But he really didn't feel like discussing the finer nuances of StonyFan1918's writing. He wanted to experience it instead. So, he lied. "Not yet, in the middle of project."

"Lame."

Tony legitimately guffawed. "I'll have you know-"

"Please, spare me what was promising to be an equally lame diatribe commending your so-called awesomeness. Just read it. And when you do, we'll commence book club." With that, she hung up. Tony was left staring at his phone.

"Well then. Back to the fun." Tony walked around the table, grabbed the lube from his desk, and flopped onto the couch. "Decision made!" He yelled, throwing his hands in the air in self victory. Dum-E whirred exasperatingly, and wheeled away, apparently not interested in seeing his daddy get his rocks off.

"Your loss." Tony grumbled, swiping his phone open again. He paused, contemplating, before tossing his phone to the other side of the couch and shucking his clothes. It was always better when he was naked. _Stark naked? Ha!_

Leaning back onto the arm rest of the couch, Tony propped his feet on the cushions, opening his legs and readying himself. And he began to read again.

_They hadn't seen anyone in quite a while, even so, Steve kept his eyes peeled as they jogged off the path and down a small hill, Tony's hand tucked into his. Hearing water, Steve aimed their walk in that direction, arriving at what he would later learn was The Loch, a flowing stream that wound through The Ravine, one of Central Park's treasures. They clamored onto a rustic wooden bridge, and still saw no one._

_Steve wasted no time in pressing Tony against the railing and kissing him breathless. "Turn around," he whispered, twisting Tony to face the railing and tugging his lose fitting sweats down._

_Tony moaned before Steve even touched him. "What do you have in mind?"_

_"You said I could have a taste." Steve teased, and dropped to his knees._

Tony was hard. Already. And nothing had even happened yet. He felt the same anticipation as his counterpart in the story. Ready and willing for Steve to use his pretty tongue inside him.

Popping open the bottle, he coated his fingers and reached around, lightly teasing his hole, and trying to imagine it was Steve's tongue instead.

_Tony couldn't suppress a moan at that, "Fuck." Feeling Steve's hand on his back, pressing him forwards, he bent over the railing, letting Steve pull apart his ass. "Bon appe-" but the joke was smothered by another moan as an experienced tongue licked upwards._

_"Shit, yes!"_

_There was chuckle behind him, but no words. The mouth was busy. He grabbed the railing, trying to cement himself still as below him, water swiftly rushed over a serene waterfall._

_And Steve was eating his fill. Tony could only hold on as his hole was lapped and prodded, sucked and nipped, tongue pressing inside him to lick and tease, bringing Tony almost to his knees. The sensation was glorious. He felt Steve's nose, pressed against him as the soldier tried his best to taste every inch of Tony._

_"Oh, fuck, oh god, Steve!" Tony panted, pushing back against his love's mouth. He spread his legs wider, moving his hips to prop himself over the railing and opening himself up more. Steve took the opportunity, lunging forward to suck heavily on the hole, kissing it like he loved to kiss Tony's mouth, like it was the most delicious thing he'd ever had._

Groaning, Tony pushed a finger inside himself, working hard to ignore his cock for the time being. He used the tip of his middle finger to flit about, moving it like it was a tongue. His hips began to undulate, the feeling of something so teasingly close to his prostate sending sparks through his vision.

When the fictional Steve licked, Tony pulled from his ass and rubbed, massaging his opening, and when he sucked, well, Tony couldn't mimic that with his hand, instead he let his finger dip all the way inside and stroked his prostate.

A few times the phone dropped, too intense was the pleasure, and his head thrashed. "Steve," he kept moaning, "fuck, Steve, please. Fucking eat me!"

He always scrambled to pick it up, needing the mental visual of Steve on his knees behind him working him over with his tongue.

_Tony kept bending, and Steve kept licking, until at last, Tony's feet left the ground. He was hanging over the railing, bracing himself on his hands, head dropped low and back arched. Under them, the water looked frigid, but he knew Steve would never let him fall._

_Until Steve's other hand grabbed his dick and he almost jolted right over the edge._

_"Oh, shit!" Tony cried out, grasping for purchase, but Steve had stopped him, clasping his free hand around Tony's thighs and holding him steady. He never stopped his incredible assault on Tony's ass. Steve had barely touched his cock and he was already so close. He felt safe and guarded, and the warmth of Steve's mouth was close to sending him over the edge._

_With Tony now firmly secure against the railing, he let his right hand move, stroking Tony hard, but slow, matching the movements of his mouth._

_Tony was shaking. Not from the exertion of holding himself up, but from the way Steve's attention to his body made pleasure pool in his stomach, the ache in his testicles, and the amazing feeling that they could be caught at any moment._

Tony was whining with need. His slowly stroked himself, his fingers moving inside, pulling them out to tease the opening, flicking against it and rubbing. It was torturous, but so, so good.

Breathing heavy, the phone fell from his chest, where he had laid it when he grabbed himself.

"Jarvis," he groaned, "screen above me. You know what to do."

"Right away, sir." Jarvis spoke, pulling the story up on the closest screen to him. "You should add more lube, sir."

"I'm a little put off that you're giving me masturbatory advice, but yeah, you're right. Now shut up." Tony groaned while snapping the bottle open again.

"This is me shutting up, sir."

And Tony spared a second to glare at one of the cameras before turning back to the story, squeezing the head of his dick as he poured more lube into his hand.

_"Steve, fuck. Steve, I'm close, oh god, baby, I'm so close!" Tony was rambling his need, his legs shaking extraordinarily. Hands flailing out, he grabbed the wooden beam under the top of the railing, clenching tight enough to turn his knuckles white._

_Steve shoved his tongue inside him, licking now with abandon, his hand speeding up its jerking, the other around his thighs clenching tightly enough to leave bruises, but the pain was amazing, and Tony screamed._

_He shot ribbon after ribbon of his come, watching as it spurt through the railing and fell into the water, his seed somehow rejoining nature._

_But Steve didn't stop. He pulled Tony back down onto his feet and used both hands to spread him. Tony fell against the railing, his moans loud and guttural, spent and shaking, but still Steve didn't stop, and laid his tongue flat, rubbing it up and down, up and down, until Tony's voice was growing hoarse, and his nails were digging into the wood._

_"Steve, Steve! Oh God! Steve, I can't! Oh fuck! Oh God, baby, oh fuck!"_

_With a grin, Steve finally pulled back, and Tony collapsed onto the railing, too exhausted to move. Steve chuckled and leaned forwards, giving one last long lick up across Tony's hole, and the smaller man shuddered._

Sweat had gathered along Tony's back, and he slipped down the couch, laying flat on his back. His knees were bent and up, the muscles aching with the positioning, but he didn't care.

His own fingers were pulsing against his prostate, and his right hand was flying up and down his cock, periodically flicking over the tip.

Throwing his head back, he came. "Fuck! Yes! Steve!" He rode through his orgasm, loving the feel of his come coating his fingers and the velvet of his insides.

Coming down, Tony removed his fingers and released himself, laying, for a moment, with his legs dropping to the cushions, hands splayed, and chest heaving.

His head dropped to the side, facing out. And it took a moment, but his eyes focused on two figures just beyond the glass wall.

Natasha. And Steve.

Shit.

Natasha was grinning, but her eyes were dark. She held onto Steve's arm as he tried to escape, managing to hold him for a few seconds before he broke free and bolted. She threw her head back and laughed.

Tony's face went red as he hastily jumped up and pulled on his briefs. "What the fuck, Natasha?!"

Laughing harder, Natasha keyed in her code to enter the lab and stepped through the doors.

"I had a feeling, sorry. Too tempting to pass up!"

"You brought him down here?! Why?" Tony snapped, flipping his shirt over his head and grabbing his pants.

"Hey! That's not what you say to someone who just did you a favor!" She was still laughing, pulling out one of his stools and flopping down.

Tony groaned, "How? How was that a favor?" He looked at his clothes, smears of come and lube stained the fabric. He had meant to wash them before touching his clothing, but obviously that didn't happen.

"Oh, please! You're in love with him!"

"So? He's straight as an arrow!"

Throwing her head back in a sigh, Natasha groaned. "God, you're clueless. Anyway," she hurried on, "I take it you liked the next installment?"

Tony felt his face fill again. "Yeah, what gave you that idea?"

"That incredibly explosive orgasm you just had."

"How much did he see? Be honest!"

She shrugged. "We got down here later than I wanted. Just you coming."

Tony covered his face. "Jesus, Tash!" He plopped on the stool next to hers. "And does everyone know I like him?"

"Love. And yes. Except him." She patted his knee and stood. "Don't fret on it. He's probably touching himself to the memory as we speak."

Tony flushed at the thought, but frowned. "No, no he's not."

"You're an idiot."

"So, I've been told." He sighed.

"Come have dinner. Who knows when StonyFan1918 will update again, could be tonight. And you need your strength."

Tony's head dropped in embarrassment. "I hate you."

"Liar. You love me." Waking towards the door, she turned to say one more thing, "I think the next story will be about Steve walking in on you and joining you." She paused. "Don't change your clothes, you'll just get messy again." And she was gone.

_Oh my god. It was Natasha wasn't it? SHE was StonyFan1918!_

Tony's mouth dropped. It all made sense now.

* * *

The comments on StonyFan1918's most recent story were getting interesting. As a writer, they loved every comment, but sometimes, the fans of their stories got a little weird:

**Hawkass64** : This is amazing! NGL, I came so hard. Do you take requests? What if he wore Steve's colors and Steve couldn't help himself?

**Natashaboo** replied: What if he steals one of Rogers' sweaters in those colors?

**StonyFan1918** replied: OH MY GOSH I LOVE YOU TWO WHO ARE YOU LET'S BE FRIENDS BECAUSE YES TONY STEALING CLOTHES

**Narashaboo** : He'd be so cute in Steve's hoodies. All over-sized. He's so tiny. Tiny Tony.

**THORIAM** replied: WHAT ABOUT THE FOOD PLAY. STEVEN NEEDS TO GET ANTHONY TO EAT SO HE BRINGS HIM THE ICE CREAM.

**Natashaboo** replied: First of all, way to be obvious. Secondly, yes whipped cream.

**Stonyfan1918** replied: Obvious about what?

**Hawkass64** replied: Nothing! Tony likes pizza!

**Natashaboo** replied: Nah, too messy.

**StonyFan1918** replied: Just tell me! Obvious about what? Hey! It's my story! I demand an answer!

**THORIAM** replied: BUT STEVEN WOULD CLEAN HIM UP.

**Natashaboo** replied: Oh, bathtub sex! The tub in Tony's penthouse is big enough too!

**StonyFan1918** replied: How do you know that?

**Natashaboo** replied: Just a guess.

**Hawkass64** replied: What about the pool in the gym? It locks from the inside. LMFAO

**StonyFan1918** replied: HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT

**BrucieBear** replied: Think Steve ever walked in on Tony? What am I saying of course he did.

**StonyFan1918** replied: WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE

* * *

The next morning, Natasha entered the kitchen and grabbed an apple, looking smugly at Steve. He was at the counter, laptop open, with a confused face on.

"Something wrong, Rogers?"

"Yeah, I mean no. I mean, our fans, how much do they know?" He glanced up from the screen.

Taking a bite, Natasha smirked around the fruit. "Ooh, lots, I'm sure."

Steve looked worried, "I mean about the tower. You think they know the layout?"

Natasha had to hold back a laugh, from the vents, she heard a snort, and shot the wall a dirty look as Steve frowned at his laptop. "I don't know," she turned back, "probably public records."

"That's disconcerting."

"Not possible," it was Tony, sauntering in to refill his coffee, "I have fake files on record." He paused. "Wait, why?"

"No reason!" Steve squawked, slamming the computer closed. Tony shrugged and took a long drink of his mug. "So, StonyFan1918 posted again. This time about Steve making me come from rimming." He narrowed his eyes at Natasha, he was so sure it was her. He had avoided each of them the night before, locked away in his workshop and going over the facts. He mentioned a kink, it got turned into a story. Natasha knew he loved Steve. Bruce did too. Maybe the others? And she had said what the next story might be about. It had to be her.

"What's, uh, what's rimming?" Steve asked, eyes wide.

It was Natasha's turn to narrow her eyes, this time at Steve. He flushed and looked down.

"Eating out." Tony supplied. "Ass. Eating ass. I like that."

"You said that yesterday," Natasha spoke, taking another bite of apple, but still not looking away from Steve.

"I like it better when it's after someone comes in me. Clean me up."

Steve's face was red, but he was typing furiously, studiously ignoring Tony's eyes.

"Asking Google, Stevie?" Tony wasn't sure why he teased Steve so much. Did he consider it flirting? Was it flirting when the other party had no idea you were into-

_Oh shit._

Tony had screamed Steve's name the day before. When Natasha had tricked him into going to the workshop. Fuck, he _did_ know!

"Gotta go." Tony blushed, and **ZOOM!** He was gone.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go." She turned to Steve. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"What?"

"Tony's ass. It's gorgeous."

"Don't know what you're talking about." Steve grumbled, gathering his laptop and hurrying away.

"He's got a great ass!" The vent said.

"Shut up, Clint."

The vent shut up.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony is still clueless, but he does suspect someone in the tower. The wrong fucking person, of course! And Steve may start getting an idea that his star spangled ass has been found out. 
> 
> A few friends mentioned wanting Tony to hook up with Clint in the interim. As tantalizing as that may be, it probably won't happen unless like every comment I get here on out demands it. Instead, I'll work on a one-shot dealing with them as rambunctious butt-buddies. Maybe I'll throw in a sarcastic Natasha to tease them when she figures out they're fucking.
> 
> In the meantime, the incredible response I got to this fic is what made me update it so quickly. So you know. Keep going. Feed my ego like Tony's ass feeds Steve.


	3. Non-Date. No, Really. They Were Just Bored

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony STILL thinks it's Natasha (What a dumb ass, amirite), and he and Steve have an outing. As friends of course. And they're totally not flirting with each other. Also there's smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a speckle of the serious in here, sorry. I mean it IS crack taken seriously, right? And we want Steve and Tony to have like a solid foundation for their relationship, right? Look, I'm sorry, I can't seem to write straight humor. It's not my fault. It's Tony's. Just blame him, the precious little fuckhead.

3  
**Chapter three: Non-Date, No Really, They Were Just Bored**

It was almost two weeks before the next story came out. Tony was sure it was done because Natasha wanted him off the scent.

It was like she didn't even know him at all.

He was looking for concrete proof, something to tie Natasha to the account, anything at all so he could stalk up to her and gloat.

But everywhere he looked, he came up with more and more dead ends. He had tried hacking the account himself, but everything kept going wrong. His computers would freeze, the websites would crash, all stupid things that made no sense. It was his technology, for fuck's sake, why wasn't it working? He had even tried to get Jarvis to do it, begging the AI to 'Just hack the fucking account already!' But all he got was the run around.

_"J, I need you to hack StonyFan1918's account. I need to know who's behind it."_

_There was a pause, then, "I'm terribly sorry, sir. But I am unable to complete that action."_

_"Jarvis, just get into that damn account!" Tony had snapped. "I don't care what you need to do! Nothing is working on my end!"_

_"Sir, my apologies, but I cannot."_

_Tony slammed his hand on the desk. "Damn it, Jarvis! I programmed you! I will sell you to a community college!"_

_"I am not computing, sir. Error 404."_

_"What?" Was his own AI revolting against him? Was this Skynet? Is this how it started? "You don't HAVE an Error 404!"_

_But apparently, Jarvis was done talking._

So he waited and he planned. He cornered the other Avengers on their own and fed them each a kink.

Thor, he was positive wasn't in any way involved, but he told him he liked wake-boarding. Not even a real kink, but the Asgardian used his tablet to read, so a Google search history would prove he wasn't involved.

To Bruce, he said he liked spanking. Not completely wrong, but it never made or broke sex for him. It was fun once in a while. And anyway, he needed something believable for him, Bruce knew the most about Tony.

When he approached Clint, he told him he loved light bondage, like being tied up. Not a lie. He kept this one truthful simply because he liked Clint's reaction to it. And the not so subtle bulge growing in his pants. Clint was known to enjoy tying his partners up.

Over-stimulation, he told Natasha, fully expecting the next story to encompass that. The whole team knew of Steve seeing Tony orgasm at this point (Oh, she so did that on purpose, the brat! If the whole team knew, he couldn't prove anything!), so a story about joining him wouldn't prove a thing. But forcing him to come a second time without a break? Natasha _would_ out herself with that one!

It was a week into this experiment and Tony still was unable to get Steve alone to feed him a prompt. And to apologize. He loved Steve. He wanted to be with him. Plan a life together, be all cute and domestic and lame together. All that stupid, cozy shit.

But that was never going to happen. So, he'd have to settle for being friends with him. And Steve wasn't the type of friend to just look past seeing someone come hard while screaming his name. (Too bad, really, Tony was well aware of how hot he was like that.)

And though he knew that the soldier was not StonyFan1918, he still had to keep it fair, just in case. And, of course, as a scientist, he needed his hypothesis to be as complete as possible. For Science. Of course.

"I like the idea of butt plugs." He said on Saturday evening, finally finding Steve outside alone on the landing pad. The sun was setting and it was cold. Tony regretted not grabbing a jacket, but approached the figure typing away anyway.

Steve choked, fumbling as his laptop fell onto the ground, his face pinched.

"Why are you out here?" Tony continued. "It's freezing."

"Been colder." Steve mumbled, picking up the computer and snapping it closed. "Besides, I wr-do better work when I'm outside and alone."

"Sorry about the cold comment. I know you're a little," he gestured wildly, "testy about it."

"Oh. It's fine." Steve stood up from his seat on the ground. "I'm, uh, I'm going in."

"So soon?"

He paused, tucking his laptop under his arm, and studying Tony. "Why did you say that?"

"Say what? That's it's freezing?"

"Tony," Steve started. He sighed. "No, I mean about butt plugs."

"So, I've found something you're familiar with? The great Captain America knows about butt plugs?"

Steve's face colored, even in the darkening light, Tony could see it. Fucking hell, he was beautiful. "I'm not totally ignorant." He mumbled, looking down. "Just want to know why, is all."

"Oh. Well. You know, I say these things out loud and the overlords of fanfiction grant my wishes."

"Right." Steve turned and started walking, not sparing Tony another glance. It had been awkward between the two; Steve avoided Tony whenever there was a chance they'd be alone together, hurrying off, claiming some unfinished business or a prior obligation. Each excuse getting worse than the last. This had to end.

"Hey, wait." Steve stopped but didn't turn around at Tony's voice. He waited, shoulders tense, for him to continue. "Listen, Steve. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to see that. Or hear that." There was no need to clarify; they both knew what Tony was referring to.

"It's fine, Stark."

Tony winced. So, he was Stark again. "I'm really sorry. Seriously!" Tony said, holding his hands up and knowing that the other man wouldn't believe him. "I didn't know that Natasha would bring you to the workshop. It's just, you know," he shrugged pathetically, "the stories are hot."

Turning, Steve looked at him with an emotion Tony couldn't decipher. "That's all? You just think the stories are...hot?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm sorry they involve you. Look, if you want me to stop reading them-"

"-It's okay. I'm not trying to control you."

Confused, Tony asked, "What do you mean?"

"You can read what you want to. I know you, so, uh, I know you're...sexual? I guess?" The emotion, whatever it was, vanished from his face. He looked blank, almost bored. "You like what you like. There's nothing wrong with that. I guess they're written really well, so, you know. It's fiction. Not like it's actually me."

Those words caused Tony's heart to drop. He hated to admit it, but he had been wishing that maybe, just maybe, Steve felt the same about him, despite the fact that he knew better. Obviously, he was wrong.

"No, they're not you." _That would be impossible._

"Yeah. Fiction."

"Fiction. Right."

Steve gave him a small smile, not a real one, but a smile nonetheless. "It's okay. Tony, it's okay. I shouldn't have avoided you." And he walked away, back inside the tower and far from the man who loved him quietly.

At least he was back to being Tony.

* * *

It was stilted still, for a few days, both Steve and Tony trying to fall back into the rhythm of friendship, but once they accepted that what happened was unchangeable but didn't need to deter the status quo, things fell back into normalcy. Three mornings before the next story was posted, they found themselves alone in the tower and seeking company. With no one else around, their only choice was each other. But it was the catalyst they needed to get back into the groove of things. It also helped that Tony didn't bring up kinks or fanfiction or the need to scream Steve's name when he came.

Sometimes, he was pretty good at filtering what his brain wanted to blurt out.

"Nat is in Austin on an assignment." Tony grumbled as Steve walked into the common kitchen. "Bruce is peacefully doing some peaceful peace thing, I think in North Dakota. Clint is in London, and Thor went shopping."

Steve was in the process of pouring himself a glass of milk when that last one stopped him. "Shopping?"

"Yeah. Something about Bruce's birthday and the Tanger Outlets on Long Island." He eyed Steve sardonically, "Look, I don't ask questions when it comes to Point Break. I just let it be." He chuckled, "You wanna question a god's motives?"

Smiling at the thought of Tony actually not saying something, Steve answered, "Not particularly."

"I'm bored." Tony said. "Like, super bored. As in, all my current projects are done and honestly, I need human interaction or I'm going to go postal."

Steve was thoughtful for a moment, seeing the opportunity for what it was: An olive branch. "You wanna do something together?"

_Fucking would be nice,_ Tony thought, but he kept that to himself. See? He could be considerate! "Actually, yes. Please. I'm losing my damn mind here."

"So desperate for companionship you'll come to Captain America for company, Tony?"

"Don't read too much into it." Maybe Pepper was right. Maybe he really was full of shit.

"I was going to check out the MOMA today-" he paused, seeing Tony's face fall at the suggestion, "-But we could do something else?" And why did he sound so damn eager?

"Modern Art. No, sounds great. Let's do it." _Don't say I never gave ya nothing._

"You sure?" Tony nodded. "Okay, thanks, let me just shower.

Tony shifted at that. "Yeah, no, me too. You know. I probably stink."

Steve shrugged, "I don't smell anything bad, but, personal hygiene is important. Hey, back here in an hour?"

"Sure thing, Cap."

* * *

Steve wore dress pants and a fitted collared shirt in a color Tony swore was created to match his eyes. He looked so nice, so dang respectable, that Tony actually felt a twinge of guilt at the thoughts running through his head (mainly Steve's tongue).

And there was Tony. Ripped jeans (that probably cost a fortune), and a Slayer t-shirt.

"Uh. I can change." Tony muttered, catching sight of how well dressed Steve was in comparison to his own frat boy get-up.

"What? No! You look gr-fine. It's casual. No sweat."

Tilting his head, Tony replied, "If you're sure."

"I am." Steve said, putting his wallet and phone into his pocket. He picked up his jacket.

"Yeah, okay. Uh, you want me to call a car?"

Confused, Steve said, "What?"

"To get us there? I mean, I don't really feel like walking but if you do..." Tony was feeling stupider by the moment. How was it that this man, this annoying, selfless, kind, and loyal man made him feel like he couldn't even do simple math?

Steve laughed, "I wasn't going to walk. I was going to take the subway."

"Oh yeah. Of course. I always take the subway. I know about about the subway. Public transit. Sure thing."

Tony did not know all about the subway. He had never even _been_ on the subway. He was thankful, at least, that in his short time in the new millennium Steve had come to fully grasp the intricate systems that were the transportation module of the five boroughs of New York City.

He was also glad that Steve was such an imposing figure.

For all his bravado, Tony really hated being leered at, and in public there was no shortage of that. It seemed worse on the train, both men and women, all with greedy eyes, either knowing who he was or not. But it felt gross. At least with Steve by his side he felt safer.

Not that he couldn't take care of himself, of course, but even the strongest didn't exactly like being stared at like a pigeon stares at a zeppole.

Tony stood close to Steve in his shadow in an attempt to make himself disappear (or to send a warning to anyone dumb enough to try something that he was with Steve, and didn't that put a hop in his step!).

The train was packed, full of tourists and locals, a rare nice day in February drawing people outdoors and into the cheapest means to traverse the city. With the subway so packed, there were no seats, so they stood close together, Steve looking like he belonged, and Tony trying to push down his anxiety. How in hell did people do this daily?

After the third camera flash in his face, Tony turned to face Steve, attempting to hide who he was, at least no one had said anything.

Until he felt someone squeeze his ass and a lascivious voice whispered in his ear. "Ditch the loser and come home with me."

Tony squeaked (though if you asked him later, he most certainly did not!). But he really didn't want a scene, so he just ignored the man behind him and let go of the 'Oh Shit Bar' to hook his arm onto Steve's and move away from the dirt-bag that found it perfectly okay to grab someone's ass.

With a confused frown, Steve looked down at Tony. "You okay?"

"Oh yeah. Just peachy."

But another pinch at his derriére sent Tony forwards and into Steve's side with one more rather unmanly sound. "Tony, what's going on?"

"Just, how many more stops?"

"Four, I think. Why?"

"What do you see in him anyway?" The man spoke again, encroaching Tony's personal space in the worst way possible.

Steve's head whipped around, glaring at the man and taking in how he was slowly moving up against Tony's backside and the gross way his hands were at Tony's hip and on his ass.

"Get off him."

Tony's face was burning. Not much made him embarrassed, just screaming his crush's name in front of him, and being groped on a subway apparently. It didn't help that those who had recognized him had their phones out, filming the exchange. The others surrounding them were looking furious, one man trying to move forward though the sardine can of a train car to help.

"Make me." The man said, pulling Tony backwards by his hip.

Something snapped inside Tony, the media fallout be damned! "GET YOUR GRIMY HANDS OFF OF ME!" He twisted from the man's grip as best he could in the limited space.

"Come on, sugar, you must be used to this with a face and ass like that."

Tony didn't even have a chance to answer. The train had stopped, doors opening, and Steve took the opportunity.

"Bye, Creep!" In one fluid movement, he had pushed Tony behind him, taking over the space the smaller man had occupied, and bodily lifted the jerk off his feet and threw him out the door. He landed on the platform with a thud and a grunt. Steve leaned out, his hands resting on the subway car's sliding doors, "It's called consent, dick-bag. You may want to look that up in the dictionary. Also, if you hadn't noticed, he," Steve pointed angrily behind him at Tony who stood shock still, "is way too good for you. Stay in your lane, asshole." And the doors closed.

There was silence for all of five seconds before those near them in the car erupted in cheers. Others further down were looking up curiously. But the three fans stood silently, their phones still out. They were near each other, young and full of piss and vinegar. Quiet, but happily filming a celebrity getting sexually harassed.

"And you three!" Steve rounded on them, "You're more interested in gaining fame for your video than helping! You should be disgusted with yourselves! Famous or not, he doesn't deserve to be molested by some filthy sycophant!" With that Steve turned from them and grabbed the safety bar with one hand and put Tony's hand back on his arm with his other, like he belonged there.

A bit shell-shocked, Tony looked up at him with wide eyes, his fingers tight around Steve's bicep, like he was afraid he'd fall over. "My hero."

"People need to learn that you don't touch my damn friends."

"You cursed. Three times."

"He had his hands on you. Not okay."

Again, Tony looked awed. "My hero."

Steve smirked, "Guess I am."

"Nice word choice by the way. Sycophant.” Tony was regaining his composure. “Good use of an SAT word." Looking down, he shuffled his feet just a little closer to Steve. Maybe not fully back to normal, or maybe he just wanted an excuse to be close to Steve.

"Mr. Stark? Uh, Iron Man, sir?"

Tony glanced up, it was the man who had been too far to help, but had tried anyway. So those three with the phones weren't the only ones who knew who he was. The rest of the New Yorkers and tourists just had more class.

"Yeah?" And Tony was almost embarrassed by how small his voice sounded. He cleared his throat, "Yes?" Good. That sounded more confident.

"Are you okay?"

Steve was looking at him curiously, so Tony did his best to grin in an attempt to ease the soldier's concern. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Happens all the time." He said truthfully to the man. You didn't look like he did and not get unwanted advances often.

The man made a face and opened his mouth to speak, but Steve beat him to it.

"Holy hell, Tony, all the time?!"

"You said hell!"

"Don't dodge the question!"

A woman standing on Steve's other side peered around him to look at Tony, "That's never okay! Doesn't matter who ya are!"

Ah fuck. He'd said the wrong thing. "I mean, okay, not all the time, right? Or I'd never get any work done!" His attempt at humor fell flat. He flushed. "Look it's fine, all right? I'm rich, a genius, famous, and good looking," he said with his trademark media smile, "can't have all the luck, right?" _Deflect, Stark, deflect!_ "I mean, they're not all bad, right?"

The woman made a sad face, and Steve looked...

Well. He looked murderous.

"Down, boy." Tony tried to joke again, looking up at him.

The man was shaking his head, "I think we forget sometimes, when a person is famous that they're still human." Tony felt his face heat up even more. All this blushing was going to be bad for his reputation.

"Look, it's fine. He's gone now, right? Stevie here tossed him on his ass. I'm sure he'll think twice before he tries to grab someone's butt again." He paused, floundering for what to say. Boy, was he hating the subway even more! Forced interaction with strangers sucked donkey balls when he wasn't mentally prepared for it.

"Tony. It's not okay ever. People don't get to just touch you because you're rich and famous." Steve said, his eyes still furious.

"Captain Rogers is right, sir," another younger man spoke up; he was in one of the seats, a textbook open on his lap. "And was he right about consent." The car was slowly clearing out, so he had a better view of Tony and Steve.

"I don't know how you were raised," the woman spoke again, "but if your father never told you, I will. No one has the right to touch you unless you explicitly say it's okay." _Whoa, too close to home, Lady!_

Tony had no idea how he was still standing when all of the blood in his body was in his face. Steve could sense he was uncomfortable.

"I'll make sure he knows it, ma'am."

"Good." She said, then turned to the three fans who _still_ had their phones out. "Have ya learned nothing!? Put ya damn phones away!"

The young man on the seat stood threateningly, "I'll throw them out just like Captain America threw out that prick. Fucking try me."

The three glanced at each other, but only moved to put their phones away when Steve removed Tony's hand from him, stuck it on the safety bar above his head, and moved towards them to do just that.

"Chill. We're sorry, okay, man?" The one in the middle said, hastily shoving his phone in his pocket.

Tony looked at Steve and again said, "My hero." This time, it was with obvious cheek, and the first man laughed.

"Can't keep a good man down!" And now why did that make Tony's face feel hot again?

Steve was grinning, the rage faded from his eyes, and he was looking at Tony with a deep affection that had the genius' heart pounding. "Tony's resilient. Nothing gets him down for long." And was that pride he heard in the soldier's voice?

"Good, because you guys will probably have to save us again at some point." And Tony laughed loudly at that, the woman looked happy that she managed to get him smiling something real. "Just don't forget: Rich, famous, smart, superhero? Doesn't matter. It's your damn body." She looked at Steve, "Make sure he gets that through his big head!"

"Oh, I will."

"Oh, look, our stop!" Tony interrupted, tugging Steve's shirt sleeve, "We have to go! Sorry! Thank you! Bye!" And he pulled them out of the train car and onto the platform, waving sheepishly as the doors closed. God, he was so awkward at times, especially after becoming Iron Man. Show your heart to the public and the facade just breaks the fuck down, doesn't it? "Let's go see some lines painted on canvas."

Steve sighed, "You're impossible."

"All part of my charm, Rogers."

* * *

The museum was nice, considering Tony had no interest in anything in there other than the soldier next to him. Although, Steve talking about art, about drawing and painting, and the use of technique...now that Tony could watch everyday.

Surrounded by something he had a deep passion for, he came alive in ways Tony didn't think possible. The art could fuck it. Tony just wanted to look at Steve.

It was nice, though, despite the annoyance of non-New Yorker tourists milling around in their slow moving, doorway blocking, picture taking way. And though they were recognized by a few, most seemed satisfied to leave them be.

Tony was so enamored with Steve's excitement, he didn't notice (until they were there for almost an hour.), the signs for an exhibit. He had looked away from Steve quickly to not get caught staring at him as the soldier was talking about some artist he admired. _Who me? Looking at a gorgeous blond? Naw._

It was a picture of Steve, framed against a crumbled Manhattan, with Tony in his suit in the background. The Chitauri Invasion. Steve's shield was in mid-air, flying back to him and Tony had his arms out, repulsers charging. The sign underneath was typed out in bold letters.

**Aftermath: The Tradition of Exposure and the Forced Celebrity**

**Photography Exhibit**

**Connor Caruso**

_**An in-depth look at disaster and the team that risked all to defend.** _

"Huh." Tony said. He remembered seeing a few people on the streets that day, most were trying to find safe spaces to hide, but if he really concentrated, he could recall one man with curly blond hair, and an expensive camera. Funny how the memory was there all along but he never thought about it.

"What?" Steve was saying, turning from the painting he was looking at and catching sight of the sign. "Oh! Well. Had no idea about that."

Tony gave him a look that clearly said, _I know you're full of shit._ "I think I remember seeing someone with a camera."

"Vaguely." Steve answered, stepping forwards to examine the photo used to advertise the exhibit. "I don't remember this, that whole day is kind of a blur."

"Fight, fight, crack a joke, fight, fight, crack a joke, wormhole. That's about what I remember."

"And Shawarma."

"Can't forget the Shawarma!" Tony grinned, “Official food of the Avengers!”

"Do you want to see it?"

Tony shrugged, "Think we already did." He laughed. "Can't believe I didn't know about this."

It was Steve's turn to shrug. "I remember getting a letter about it, I think Miss Potts handled it on your end."

_I knew you were lying._ "Oh yeah, she asked if I wanted to give permission for photos of me to be included in something." He chuckled and sang softly, "It's all coming back, it's all coming back to me now..."

"You have a nice voice."

"What? Oh, thanks." _No, face, it's not time to blush again. Cut that shit out._ "Pepper says I'm walking iPod; I have a song for everything."

"Who's that? It sounds nice."

Tony barked a laugh, "Celine Dion, and if you tell anyone I know that song, I'll piss in your Wheaties."

"I don't eat Wheaties." Steve said, wrapping his hand around Tony's bicep and pulling him. Tony had no choice but to follow. "Come on, I want to see it!"

Who was Tony to say no to Steve Rogers? So they went.

"Oh, wow," Tony said, impressed, as they reached the exhibit. The photographer had taken photos of individual pieces of rubble and constructed them together to form an arch around the door to the room. "That's actually kinda cool."

"What's this? Tony Stark thinking something creative is interesting? Be still my heart."

"Shut up, Steven." Tony mumbled, passing under the arch and entering. He was at once faced with a wall, open on either end to the room behind it, the large expanse covered in another mosaic, this time, one of the Chitauri ships. In bold letters were the words: **They saved us all.** He made a face. "Even as a photo, I hate it." The people around them were studying the photos, talking excitedly in hushed whispers, thrilled to see, up close, the vehicles that had caused so much destruction, even in picture form. "Think we saw enough of the real thing." Tony said, walking around the wall and into the open room. Each section held photographs: different sizes, different lights, different perspectives of the disaster and the entire Avengers team. There was Natasha, midair as she jumped onto the back of one of the Chitauri. Clint moments after the release of an arrow, determination on his face, Bruce mid transformation, Thor with his hammer held high in the air, the look on his face pure warrior. And Steve. Captain America himself, jumping from the top of an over turned taxi, shield held high.

And there was Tony, face plate up on the suit as he surveyed the area, shoulders back, the look on his face unidentifiable, with a trickle of blood flowing from his forehead.

One of him flying, a blast of light shooting from his hands, one of he and Steve, reflecting the repulsers off of the shield, him and Clint, as he gave him a ride up to a building...pictures he never remembered posing for, the photographer in danger every step of the way but determined to capture the battle. Unobtrusive to the point that until Tony caught the man's reflection in a not yet shattered window in a photo of the Hulk, he never would have known exactly what he looked like.

"This is incredible," Steve breathed. He walked up to a photograph of himself and Natasha, both looking exhausted as they stared above, the object of their focus unknown, but the emotions displayed across both faces speaking volumes.

On the far wall, directly in the middle, was a large printed board with several paragraphs. Tony read it silently.

_We call them The Avengers. A team of superheroes, though that term seems outdated and never quite enough to fully describe these awe inspiring people who risked everything in a battle they should have lost to save the lives of people they didn't even know._

_Thrust into the spotlight, forced into fame, put under the microscope of media scrutiny, and analyzed by every news outlet, every journalist, every blog. We know their names and faces, some more than others, but do we really know anything about them?_

_**Black Widow.** The only female in the team. Formidable. Strong. Beautiful. Like Athena, she waged war against the invaders, never stopping and never giving up._

_**Hawkeye.** Aerialist. Archer. His incredible aim took down countless invaders. He swung between buildings like an acrobat, never missing a shot, his arrows exploding, deadly, unmatched._

_**Hulk**. Fearsome, but important. He held watch over the others and took down evil after evil, destruction lay in his wake, but his frightening strength only used on those who tried to hurt the civilians._

_**Thor.** Not from this world, but still protected it. Fierce. His hammer conducting lightning and his resolve steady. He never backed down, even when it looked grim._

_**Captain America**. Icon. Lost years ago, the hero returned when we needed him most. His strength unmatched, his patriotism unrivaled. He fought for a world that had moved on without him, never floundering._

_**Iron Man**. Probably the most recognizable in this day and age after Captain America. His suit enviable in its technology. A man, one we thought careless and self-centered, who proved us all wrong when he willingly sacrificed himself to win the battle._

_Six heroes, because that's what they are. Angels of salvation who gave us another chance. But at what cost to them?_

Steve was shoulder to shoulder with Tony. So close he could feel his warmth. "Well then."

"This is weird." Tony said.

Steve gestured to the other side of the writing; these photos were different. They weren't just post battle, they were post everything. The next day, the weeks to come, Avengers not in their uniforms, walking in and out of Stark Tower, getting into cars, Bruce having lunch with Tony, Natasha buying a coffee with Clint, Thor laughing in Times Square, and Steve on one of his runs.

Further down showed Tony, surrounded by journalists, trying to escape them and failing, Natasha hiding from several imposing men and woman in suits, Thor looking sadly at his brother while handcuffing him, Steve looking confusedly at a marquee with fans pointing, and Clint walking fast from a hot dog cart, shoving the food into his mouth with one hand as he took a pen from a little boy asking for an autograph.

"At least they got my good side." Tony said, moving down the line, looking at more pictures of he and the team dodging what had become their everyday annoyances. "This is depressing."

"It's enlightening." Steve said. "Look at us, so busy trying to skirt passed the fallout of the invasion, we're not even living." He turned to Tony, "There's a lesson here."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"Think we're missing what's right in front of us."

Tony was quiet at that, his eye catching a photo of himself sidestepping a rather pushy looking paparazzi, head down as he judged the curb he was jumping to, right next to him was Steve, bright like the sun, and looking at Tony.

"Come on, let's go." Tony said, his throat tight.

"Sure, you wanna get lunch?"

"God yes, I'm starving." He spun on his feet, facing the opposite direction and towards the back of the wall with the Chitauri ship on it.

There was another mosaic, this time it was Steve, Tony, and Thor, after Tony had fallen from the sky. He lay on the street, his face plate ripped off, eyes closed, arc reactor dark. Thor looked crestfallen, but still his usual stoic self. But Steve...

Steve looked close to tears, he was crouched down, next to Tony, one hand on the suit, next to the unlit arc reactor, the other resting on his own thigh. Underneath the mosaic it read: **But at what cost?**

Tony was frozen solid. He had been unconscious, had never seen the reactions from the others. Something broke inside him, a piece of his anxiety. It was good. It filled him with a warmness he had never felt before.

Steve cared.

He might have even loved him.

Maybe not the way Tony wanted, but it was love.

Fanfiction would handle the rest. 

* * *

They ate lunch in a little cafe around the corner, munching on club sandwiches, BLTs, and in house pickles and chips. Tony tried to push the exhibit from his mind, to force himself to be content with how things were. He was friends with Steve. He needed to be happy he had that.

"I'm not ready to go back to the tower yet," Steve was saying, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Honestly, it's so nice out, it'd be a shame to head back indoors."

Tony popped a chip into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "True. We're only a few blocks from Central Park, we can walk through it to get back to the tower. There's always something going on there, maybe we'll find something to do." He paused and made a face reminiscent of a toddler faced with broccoli, "Also, I'm not too keen on stepping on a subway again."

Steve gave him a pointed look. "We will be talking about that again."

"Aww, come on, Stevie! I promise I'll do better! Please, daddy?! I'll do my homework later!"

The look Steve gave him was meant to be stern, but all Tony could think of was draping himself over Steve's lap and being spanked. Damn. Where did the daddy kink come from? That was a new one!

"Come on," Steve said, finishing his drink, "let's go." Tony nodded and flipped his wallet open, plucking several bills and tossing then onto the table as he stood. If he didn't think about it, maybe his dick would calm the fuck down. "Shall we?" Steve cackled, holding his arm out exaggeratedly.

"We shall!" Tony laughed, hooking his arm through Steve's and they left the cafe, taking long, ridiculous strides and laughing like two twelve-years-old boys. There was a camera flash just outside, and Tony laughed harder, just imagining what the headline would be. "Never mind us," he said in the direction of the flash, "just two imbeciles, out for a stroll!"

Steve was chuckling, "Can't wait to see this end up on TMZ!" He was syncing his legs with Tony's, making wide strides out to the side, but Tony's shorter legs were falling behind.

"Hey! No fair, you're taller than me!" He jokingly scolded, sticking his tongue out at Steve. Maturity was never his strong suit. With a grin, he hopped, changing the pace into a skip, "We're off the see the wizard!"

Steve barked a loud giggle--a fucking giggle!--and matched Tony's skip, singing off key, "The wonderful wizard of Oz!"

Together, they finished the refrain, "We hear he is a whiz of a wiz, if ever a wiz there was!" People around them were smiling, watching the two Avengers childishly dance down the sidewalk, "If ever, oh ever a wiz there was, the wizard of oz is one because, because, because, because, because, _because_! Because of the wonderful things he does!" A few passersby joined in, "We're off to see the wizard! The wonderful wizard of Oz!" More flashing, but Tony didn't care. Let Connor Caruso take a picture of them now! He so seldom laughed like this anymore, and it felt really good. Something about Steve made him feel younger and more joyful. Something he was only realizing that he missed desperately.

They slowed to a normal pace about a block later, Tony out of breath and Steve laughing so hard he was bent in half.

"I'm too old for this," Tony groaned, wiping a tear from his laughing fit.

Steve got a mischievous look on his face. "Same fam."

"Oh no, you did not just say that."

The soldier was red with his giggling. "What? Technically, I'm still in my mid-twenties!"

"No, you are an old geezer and I don't want to hear words like fam or lit coming from your mouth!"

Steve doubled over again, "But, Tony! It's lit!"

Tony backed away from him, "I don't know you. I don't know this man!" He called out, laughing again. He made it about twenty feet from Steve before taking off in the direction of the park, "Race ya!"

"Hey! Cheater!" But Steve was chasing after him, easily catching up.

"Help! I need an adult!" Tony yelled, hopping over a stack of newspapers and sprinting across the street.

"You are an adult!" Steve called back, his voice almost right behind him.

"Lies and slander!"

Steve caught up to him, grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking him backwards, almost sending Tony careening to the sidewalk. The genius yelped, clinging to the first thing he could, which was Steve's arm, and trying to steady himself. Steve pushed him back upright.

"Serves you right, taking a head start like that!"

Tony balked, "Okay super serum, whatever you say!"

Steve threw his head back and laughed loudly, Tony really liked how his eyes crinkled in mirth. He pushed Tony forwards, "Come on, idiot. I'll let you enter first, so you can pretend you won."

"Fine!" Tony retorted back, "I'll take what I can get!"

They were still grinning as they entered the park, no direction in mind, just headed north and enjoying each other's company. When they fell into silence, it was a comfortable one, walking side by side and taking in the beauty around them. Steve took out his phone and snapped a few pictures, awed still by the ability to do that.

It was so serene. Chilly, but nice, the trees bare and the sun bright. Joggers passed them by, and kids ran around. They were stopped a few times to take a picture or to sign something, but all it did was raise Tony's mood even more. The fans were enthusiastic, thankful, and sweet. They witnessed a proposal and cheered along with the crowd, tossed frisbees back to teenagers, and bought churros, eating them hungrily even though they had just had lunch, and licking the cinnamon from their own fingers afterwards, slowly making their way through the lively paths and passed hibernating trees. They veered left and right, choosing their way without care.

It was a few hours later when Tony noticed the light was dimming and checked his watch. "Oh shit, it's almost five."

"Really?" Steve glanced around them. "Huh."

Their walking ascended slightly and Tony looked up from his watch to find that they were on a bridge. And not just any bridge, but _the_ bridge. The one from the story. His face once again flushed, but it was weak, since most of his blood had rushed to his cock.

"This is the bridge from that fanfiction." Steve said quietly. But it wasn't said as a question. It was a statement. Like Steve knew they were headed there.

Tony leaned over the railing, looking down at the rushing water. "It is, isn't it." He was in the same position as his counterpart in the story, and the thought of that sent another bolt of arousal though him. He stepped back, lest he get any ideas about flinging his pants off and begging Steve to use his tongue in him.

That would be counterproductive.

But in the low light of a winter evening, he didn't see Steve staring at him with dark eyes, his neck flushed, and a bulge in his pants.

"Come on, let's head back. I'm hungry again." Tony said instead, turning to look at Steve, who lifted his head quickly to view the sky.

"Yeah, I could eat."

Laughing, Tony started towards the direction of one of the exits, "Gee whiz, what a fucking surprise!"

"Oh, shut up!" But Steve was smiling.

* * *

Tony woke up on the fifteenth morning to an e-mail (and so what if he made an account, IronDick69 wasn't taken, so he jumped at the chance.).

He was in his bed, holding steady to his promise to Steve, and kicked the blankets off in celebration. "Jarvis! New story!"

The AI responded, "I know, sir, Agent Barton and Dr. Banner have been inquiring about when you were awake to inform you. Shall I tell them?"

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead," Tony said, standing to use the bathroom and almost walking into the door as he opened the page in his phone's browser.

"Careful, sir," Jarvis warned. Tony waved him off.

"I'm good."

When he was finished, he stood in the middle of his bedroom and contemplated. Bruce and Clint were sure to know he was awake, which meant they were sure to interrupt him. Which also meant that Natasha, Thor, and Steve were probably awake as well, and though Steve was most likely not an issue, Natasha and Thor didn't seem to understand the etiquette of knocking before entering.

The thought of Steve sent a burst of happiness through him. Their day out had been so wonderful. Tony had felt protected, he felt joyful, he felt like a teenager again, getting to spend time with the person he liked.

With that feeling bubbling inside him, he stripped off his pajama bottoms and lay back on his bed, nude and ready to envision himself with Steve, to touch himself and pretend it was the soldiers hands.

He also put this phone on _Do Not Disturb_.

"J, dim the lights. Let's set the mood." If AIs could roll their eyes, Tony was sure his was.

"Done, sir. Would you like me to play some Barry Manilow?"

"Do that and you're headed to Nassau Community College quicker than you can say Jackie Robinson!"

There was a pause, then, "I can say Jackie Robinson rather quickly, sir. I'll take that chance."

"Mute!"

_Though Steve always appreciated the days when he had nothing to do, if they stretched too long, he grew bored and restless. Enough so, on occasion he sought out the other Avengers, Tony especially._

_The genius was always good for conversation, banter, or some form of intellectual stimulation. If nothing else, Steve could poke the bear and goad him into a fight._

_So, on a rather dull Wednesday, he took the elevator down to the workshop, intent on bothering Tony into either teaching him something or maybe dragging him away to lunch._

_What he didn't expect was to see Tony, beyond the glass walls, splayed out on his couch, naked and fisting his cock, his other fingers deep inside himself. Steve froze. By God, was he beautiful. His chest heaved in his lust, his hips jerking upwards to meet his strokes, but also jutting downwards to drive his fingers deeper. Moaning, head thrashing back and forth...absolutely beautiful._

_It was making Steve crazy to watch him. He had loved Tony for so long, had dreamed about touching him, about making him moan like he was at that moment, and about making him happy._

_If his callused fingers inside his prefect ass were any indication, this was Steve's opportunity. He keyed in his personal code and quietly stepped into the workshop. Years of practice had his feet silent; he approached the couch and knelt. Tony's eyes were closed, so lost in his self-pleasure he had yet to notice the other's presence._

_"Steve..." He moaned. And for a second, the soldier thought he was caught, but Tony's eyes never opened. "Oh, fuck, Steve!"_

_The sound went straight to his dick. Tony was moaning his name...Tony was moaning HIS name!_

Groaning, Tony lightly touched his cock, feeling the heat build. "Oh, Tash, you are good. You are so good."

Sitting up, he swung his feet over the bed. This story was going to need something better than his fingers or his little vibrator. In the closet, in a small box, Tony had several other toys, including a nice sized dildo, red of course, and exactly the size he assumed Steve to be. He stumbled back to the bed, jumping onto it and flopping onto his back like a teenager about to see his first porn, that is, with a little too much excitement.

He licked the toy, before dipping it into his mouth, loving the feel of it on his tongue. For a moment, he closed his eyes and envisioned that it was Steve's, swallowing down on it and sucking like the fucking pro he was. Coating his other hand with lube (and that was no easy feat to do with one hand!), he pushed his fingers inside himself, two right away, loving the feel of the slight burn, and stretched himself.

Putting the dildo down, he picked his phone back up. There'd be time for that later. For now, he had a story to read.

_Without another thought, Steve grabbed both of Tony's wrists, pulling them away from his body, and sank his mouth down onto his cock._

_"Steve?!" But Tony's hands flew to his hair, Steve's hold on them too lax to stop him, gripping, smearing lube and precome through the blond locks. "This better not be a dream!"_

_Steve lifted his head off of him with a pop, "Not a dream. Do you want it to be?"_

_"Fuck no!"_

_"Good!" Steve smirked, letting go of Tony's arms to grip his legs, pushing them up and open further. He gave one long lick from Tony's hole up the underside of his cock._

_Tony let out a low moan, "Holy shit."_

_"What do you want, Tony?" He let his voice go deep and husky, looking up at Tony with heavily lidded eyes._

_"Oh fuck. You. I want you inside me!"_

_"That could be arranged." Steve said, crawling up his body and cradling Tony's face to kiss him breathless. When he pulled back, Tony whined, lifting his head and chasing his lips._

_Steve teasingly shook his head. "No, angel, wait."_

Something about Steve calling him angel was driving Tony nuts, what he wouldn't give to hear that for real.

He crooked his fingers against his prostate, groaning at the feeling.

_"Steve, please!" Tony begged as Steve stood._

_"Patience, doll." The soldier said as he pulled his shirt over his head. Tony sat up, hands immediately going to Steve's chest._

_"Shit, you're perfect."_

_"Look in the mirror, Tones, you are to-ohhh..." Tony had latched onto one of his nipples, nipping and sucking, tasting him. "Oh my God!"_

_Tony's hands were making quick work with Steve's pants, tugging them and his boxers down and getting his first look at all of Steve's glory._

_Pushing him back against the back of the couch, Steve aligned their bodies, laying between Tony's legs (so eager to open for him!), pressing his cock alongside Tony's and moving his body just so to create a delicious friction. He let his lips trail down Tony's neck, sucking hard and marking him, picking up the discarded bottle of lube Tony had used and pouring some onto his fingers, wasting no time in slipping one into him, relishing the moans that the action drew from the smaller man's lips._

_From his play before, Tony was already mostly open, and it was amazing to be able to push three fingers into him almost right away. Within moments, he was able to add a fourth finger, the feel of Tony's insides almost too much to take._

_"Just do it already! I need you!"_

Tony put down the phone for a minute, needing to catch up and stretch himself enough to get the dildo inside himself.

Scissoring his fingers, he lifted his legs into the air and bent them as the knee, using his other hand to pull his ass open. He hurriedly slipped a third finger in and groaned, "Steve..."

It was a few minutes of work, but his fingers were sliding in and out of himself with ease and he picked up the dildo, lubing it and pressing it against his hole.

"Shit, I want you to fuck me so badly." He closed his eyes, picturing Steve above him as he teased his opening. "Fuck. I love you." And grappled for his phone, needing to read, to experience what he had wanted for so long.

_Steve lined up and pushed the head inside, the pop feeling as it pressed passed the rim had Tony flailing his hands around Steve's back, digging his nails into the skin. "Yes!"_

_"Oh shit, Tony!" Steve cursed, pushing in deeper. Tony's ass was prefect. He buried himself to the hilt and made himself still. "You okay?"_

_"Perfect. Just fuck me!"_

_Steve laughed. "Gladly." And he pulled out and pushed back in, his head dipping with how amazing it felt. "Tony, holy hell," he moaned. He was so tight still, soft and velvety, warm and prefect. Like his dick was made for Tony's ass._

_Sitting up slightly, he pulled Tony's hips up, wrapping the genius' legs around him and moving his body to angle against his prostate, thrusting into him slow and steady, going as deep as he could._

Tony moaned as he pushed the dildo into his ass. Stopping just after his rim like Steve did in the story, and then gradually going deeper until he couldn't push any further without losing the toy inside himself. When he drew it back out, the tip rubbed against his prostate, making him throw his head back and moan again.

This wasn't going to last long. The story already had him on edge.

_"Faster!" Tony moaned, his eyes closing and his nails dragging along Steve's back, marking him in his own way. "Fuck me!"_

_Steve obliged, pulling out almost the whole length of himself and ramming back in, his hips moving on their own as he gave Tony exactly what he wanted._

_His head fell back as Steve fucked him, neck taut with the strain, between them, his cock was solid, bouncing with the ferocity of the sex, and he felt his orgasm building without even giving his cock much attention at all. His whole body was tense, never had he been taken so thoroughly, so deeply before. No man he had ever been with could compare._

_"Steve, oh fuck...fuck! Right there!"_

The headboard was banging slightly against the wall with his movements, his hand shoving the dildo into himself again and again, his hips undulating as he searched for the head to pulse against his prostate. The pleasure was climbing, his balls tightening, his mouth open, and his eyes uncontrollable as he tried to read between them slipping closed with the feeling of fucking himself.

"Oh fuck," he moaning, using his thumb to scroll down the page. He needed his other hand, but he had muted Jarvis. With a loud grunt, he called out. "Un-mute, Jarvis, put it on the fucking screen! Oh God, I want Steve to fuck me so bad!"

Jarvis said nothing, but did as he was asked. And Tony dropped the phone, unconcerned as he heard it hit the floor, and wrapped his hand around himself, jerking fast and in time with the dildo.

_Steve felt himself careening over the edge, it was too much, too prefect, too amazing. He couldn't stop even if he wanted to, but he tried, at least, to warn Tony. "I'm close, oh, fuck, Tony, I'm gonna come!"_

_All it took was for Tony to open his eyes and speak. "Come in me, Cap, fucking fill me up!" And that was it. Steve was tumbling over the edge and shooting steam after stream of come into Tony, breeding him, filling him._

_He began to soften and pulled himself out, dropping to his knees in front of the couch and pushing Tony's knees up higher, intent on bringing the smaller man to climax._

_"Steve!" Tony keened, as the soldier's tongue pressed into him, licking out his own come. Tony's head fell back. "Oh, fuck yes!" Steve wrapped a hand around him, jerking him hard until Tony was screaming his name, head whipping back and forth and coming, his hips thrusting with every jolt of his orgasm, hands on the back of Steve's head, tugging him closer to his hole, begging him, worshiping him._

_Steve licked him through his orgasm, slowing his hand on his dick but continuing to taste himself inside of Tony until he felt the genius' knees close around his head, Tony's panting getting desperate with the over-stimulation._

_When he pulled away, Tony lightly caressed his hair. "I should touch myself more often in the workshop if it leads to this every time."_

He was so close, his stomach tensed, and his breath labored as he felt himself at the brink. The feeling of the dildo fucking him, the visual of Steve eating his own come from his hole, fuck. It was too much.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut, picturing Steve's face between his legs and came. Shouting his name and arching as his come spurt, never stopping the movement of the toy inside him.

"Oh, oh, fuck. Steve, oh god, Steve!" He rambled, letting go of his cock and cupping his balls, rolling them to elongate the pleasure. He dropped his feet, letting the heels dig into the mattress, and let out of guttural moan, shaking with the intensity of his orgasm.

When it finished, he pulled the dildo from his ass and melted into the bed, his body still twitching in the aftermath.

After a few minutes, he stood and made his way to the bathroom to clean himself up, and curled back under the covers, naked and sated, reaching around the floor until his fingers closed around his phone.

He sent a text to Natasha.

_You're fucking amazing. Do you know that?_

And promptly fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do me a solid and comment if you loved it? Also, have any requests? Feed my ego and shit.


	4. Interlude: This is written by RiaRose I swear. Not Steven Rogers.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Clint discuss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.

Feeling her phone buzz, Natasha pulled it from her pocket.

"This is a technology free brunch, Nat!" Clint said with a cheeky grin, taking a sip of his Bloody Mary. They were in a cafe, eating Eggs Benedict and copious amounts of bacon and potatoes.

She rolled her eyes. "It's from Tony," she spoke, not looking at him and swiping her phone open. "He's an idiot."

"No argument there. But why?"

"He still thinks it's me!"

Clint's hand was snaking forward, aiming for a piece of sausage left all alone on Natasha's plate. _Poor little baby sausage, daddy's here._ She smacked his fingers and he made a face, foiled again! "StonyFan1918? Really? He hasn't figured out it yet?"

"Apparently not." In goes the sausage! And none for Clinton Barton, bye.

"You know, I'm a growing boy."

"Maybe around the waist." He tried to look offended by that. He really did. She continued, "He's a genius, why is this so hard?"

Clint shrugged. "Dunno, maybe he's too much of a pussy to hope." He got a loaded look for that. "I'm just saying! If he's convinced Steve is straight, he's not going to entertain the idea that it's him. Why break ya own heart, you know?"

"But Steve's not straight," she countered, wiggling the phone in her hand, "this proves it. It's so obviously him."

"Crawl inside Tony's head for a minute-"

"-I'd rather not-"

"-And see what he sees. The man he loves has never done anything even remotely not heterosexual. Ever."

Pursing her lips, she said, "Except write erotic fanfiction about Tony fucking Stark."

"Don't you mean Fucking Tony Stark? In the ass. Because you know-"

Leaning forwards, Natasha covered his mouth. "Just stop while you're ahead."

Clint laughed and pulled away from her hand. "You want another screwdriver?"

"Yeah, tell them I want vodka in it this time."

Clint blinked. "They make their drinks really strong, Nat. There is vodka in it." She just glared at him. "This is a Russian thing, isn't it?"

"Since I made fun of your dad bod, I'll let that slide."

"I do _not_ have a dad bod."

"Whatever," she smirked, signaling the waiter. "Can we get another round, please?" When he left to head to the bar to refill their drinks, she looked back her phone, reading the text from Tony again. "Do you think he's in denial?"

"Maybe." Clint answered. "But I honestly think he's convinced Steve only likes boobs."

She snorted at that. "And Steve hasn't yet realized that we're all commenting on his stories and feeding his muse."

"They're both stupid as hell, man."

"Can you believe how obvious Thor is? I mean, come on! It's like a neon sign pointing straight to Asgard!"

Agreeing, he chuckled, "Think we made Steve a little paranoid."

"What? A little thing like knowing the intimate details of the tower? Of course not!" Finishing her drink, she picked up her fork and speared a potato from Clint's plate, popping it into her mouth.

"Oh, I see how it is, it's only okay if you do it."

"I'm glad to see you're catching up."

He placed his hand on the table, guarding his plate and shoving a huge chunk of waffle into his mouth. "But, seriously, how blind can you be?" It was said around a mouthful of syrup and butter.

"You're disgusting. And in regards to those two? I'm not even shocked anymore." Just to prove her point about propriety, she cut off a small piece of her own waffle and chewed politely with her mouth closed.

"Shut up, I'm hungry." The waiter returned with their drinks, and they thanked him, Clint transferring his straw and plucking the celery out to take a bite. "Do we just tell them? I mean, how long can this go on?"

"You mean ruin the fun? No way. They'll figure it out eventually."

"You're cruel."

"And you're gross."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

She laughed, "Own it, Hawkass!"

"That's Hawkass64 to you, Natashaboo."

Shrugging, she picked up her glass, holding it up and leaning forward, "At least I didn't go Thor's route. Mine is somewhat believable as a regular fan."

"Thor tries. He just usually gets it wrong. E for effort, and all that." Taking a long drink from his glass, he appraised it. "Needs more Tabasco." She handed him the bottle on the table. "Thanks. But I think the one in denial is Steve. He knows Tony is bisexual, and he knows Tony is getting off on these stories. What's keeping him from throwing him down and fucking him until the cows come home?"

"Classy as usual."

Clint waved his hand, dismissing the insult. "Seriously, though. This could all be over if Steve grew a pair."

"Where's the fun in that?" Said Natasha, dipping some toast into the leftover hollandaise sauce on her plate. "And what about you?"

Clint looked up from his waffle, "What about me?"

"You and your undying lust for Tony."

He gave her an eyebrow raise. "It's lust, Nat. I'm not in love with him, I mean I love him as a friend? But not like that. Tony is sexy as fuck, who wouldn't want to fuck him so hard he can't walk straight."

"Thanks for the visual."

"You're welcome, dear." Grabbing the syrup, he dumped more onto the already drowning Belgium waffle.

"Does type two diabetes mean nothing to you?"

"Nope." Grinning, he leaned forward, "We elves try to stick to the four main food groups: candy, candy canes, candy corns, and **syrup**."

"Okay, Will Ferrell, so you admit you are actually an elf?"

Ignoring her, he continued on with his last train of thought. "I would love a hookup with Tony, fantasies come true, right? But who am I to stand in the way of Wuuv! Trwoo Wuv."

"Stop quoting movies!"

"When I'm cold and dead, Nat, only when I'm cold and dead."

She picked up her knife, "That can be arranged."

"And anyway," he said, completely used to her threats and legitimately not caring, "I'll be a perfect rebound if they ever break up."

"That's cold, Barton."

"Have we met?"

"For that, I'm telling Steve to not let you be a bridesmaid!"

Clint sighed dramatically, "Always the bridesmaid, never the bride!"

"Amen, sister!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mischief not even close to being managed, so please comment and let me know what you think!


	5. Interlude: This May Have Been Written by Steven Rogers. Or Was it Clinton Barton. Who Even Knows Anymore?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is just like us and Clint is a bit of a creep, but we love him anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another interlude showing the thoughts of the rest of the team, there's one more after this and then the next chapter. IF you are enjoying the interludes, I may write another in between Chapter 7 and 8 (which is the last chapter.). If you guys want another, tell me in the comments what you would like to see!

5\. Interlude: This May Have Been Written by Steven Rogers. Or Was it Clinton Barton. Who Even Knows Anymore?

There was honestly nothing better than making a hot cup of proper tea, sitting down at his big oak desk facing the Manhattan Skyline at night, and writing. He had on his biggest, comfiest sweater, slippers, and maybe sort of kind of stole one of Tony's favorite throw blankets to drape across his, ahem, lap.

So, with the steam rising from the Iron Man mug he totally didn't buy himself (wasn't Amazon grand?), Steve Rogers opened a brand new Word document and placed his hands on the keyboard. _What to write...what to write..._

He and Tony had such a fantastic time during their outing the other day that his muse was bubbling. There was another story here. And it needed to be told. His fans _demanded_ it. Steve would be lying if he said the following he had of Avengers fans didn't make him swell with pride. Obviously, he knew it was bordering on bizarre, but he wasn't one to dwell on inconsequential things like that.

Of course it was still unsettling that the the rest of the team had found the stories (or Tony had found them and shared, but even that sent a tingle down his spine.). They all were seeming to enjoy them and it did lead to Tony telling them all the he was bisexual.

_That means you have a shot, Rogers,_ his inner voice was telling him.

But if Tony hadn't made a move by now...

Steve had to shake his head and take a sip of his tea to push the thoughts from his mind. He had writing to do. The scene on the subway was rolling about in his brain. It was all any of the fans could talk about. No one was happy that Tony apparently thought so little of himself; it was shock to the system. Steve knew, and so did the rest of the team. He was sure Pepper, Rhodey, and probably Happy knew as well. Tony could hide his insecurities from the public all he wanted, but to those who saw him almost everyday? It had become painfully obvious.

Fandom called it a Fix-It. Something to make the bad things better. Maybe he could write about not only protecting Tony, but finally getting the guts to tell him the truth: That he loved him. That Steven Rogers was completely, irrevocably, 100% head over heels in love with Anthony Stark.

A Facebook message popped up in his notifications on his cellphone,startling him, and Steve would have been annoyed with the interruption had it not been from Cara, one of the other writers on the site he had grown close to (and no, she had no idea who he was.). It had become inevitable that he would strike up friendships with the others who wrote stories about him and the team, particularly writers who were just as into Stony as he was.

Steve was smiling, he adored Cara. She was an amazing writer and her exuberant personality not only reminded him of someone else he knew, but it also brought out his own. It was honestly too bad she could never know who he really was, but even still, having someone to fangirl over Tony with was fun. He didn't like lying to them, but the fake profile on Facebook was necessary to keep his cover. Roger John Stark. A bit obvious, maybe, but the use of Tony's last name was common among the fans of his, as it was for the Steve fans to take on Rogers.

Putting his phone down, he turned back to his laptop and was about to start when a noise startled him. He whipped his head around but saw nothing and narrowed his eyes on suspicion.

"Barton, you better not be in the vents!" He called out, standing and rolling his desk chair over to the opposite wall to stand on it. But when he peered inside the high up air duct, nothing was there. "Huh."

With a shrug, he went back to his desk and took a sip of tea. "Okay, let's do this."

_**Rough Night In** _

_AN: For my girl, CStarX, who wanted rough sex in response to THAT subway video._

He paused, thinking, before the words fell out, tumbling from his fingertips. It was easy when it was something you really wanted. The professionals did say to write what you know, after all. They called that catharsis, didn't they?

_Steve was furious. He honestly didn't think he had ever been as mad as he was, and not at Tony. Maybe at Howard, maybe at Maria for not instilling in their son that nobody had a right to touch him, maybe at the people who thought it was just fine and dandy to put their hands on another person without their consent, but not at Tony._

_Tony. HIS Tony. His sweet angel of a man who tried so hard to show a tough, hardened exterior to the world but was really just so damn squishy. And it wasn't fair. It wasn't right._

_What if Steve hadn't have been there? What if that man hurt Tony? What if the touching went beyond grabbing his ass?_

_Steve was seeing red._

_No. Not okay. And Tony belonged to HIM._

"Yes! We're getting protective AND possessive Steve in this story!"

Steve jumped, sailing out of his chair and falling hard on his ass with a loud grunt, the blanket tangling on the arm of the desk chair and sending it toppling over. He reached out for his shield to defend himself from the intruder, but only managed to knock it to the ground, where it comically rolled away and flapped to the floor, right at the edge of the bed. Right where Clint fucking Barton was sitting, legs pretzeled and hands tucked under his chin, smiling coyly. His grin widened when Steve glared at him.

"Are you out of your mind!?"

"That would be the general consensus, yes." Clint said, sitting up, "Look, do you take requests? You take them on the page, right? But I don't have time to comment, so face to face works better."

"Do I take-WHAT?"

"Requests. Listen, I only got about ten minutes." Standing, he stepped annoyingly over Steve and righted the desk chair, sitting in it and scrolling through what Steve had already written. "I saw this porn recently, where the guy was sitting in the top's lap, like facing him? And he was fucking him so hard the bottom was digging his nails into his back and leaving marks. It was hot. You could totally have Steve do that to Tony."

"Barton!"

"Also, who is Cara? Inquiring minds want to know."

"Out! Out of my chair and out of my room!" Steve's face was doing an incredible impersonation of a tomato.

Looking up at him, Clint said, "So, what? I can go chill in your kitchen?"

"Bye, Clint!"

"Natasha really likes the whole marking thing, so definitely add that. And Thor and Bruce seem really sweet on all the lovey stuff, but you do that anyway." He turned back to the laptop, no intention of leaving just yet. "You should have Steve put Tony in one of his hoodies, afterwards. Bruce likes that idea. But first, you know, rough fucking."

"How?" Steve whined, "How did you know?"

Clint gave him a look. "What? Was it a secret or something?"

Groaning, Steve rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Or something. Does everyone know?"

"Yeah. Well, Tony doesn't. He's an idiot sometimes." Looking back at Steve, Clint asked, "Did you honestly think the FANS knew about the faulty lock on the staircase?" He was referring to a comment, left by Natashaboo, one of Steve's most avid readers and-

"Are you freaking kidding me?!"

Clint smirked, "Tutt tutt, Captain Rogers. Language!"

"You all have been leaving," he enunciated here, "comments on my-StonyFan1918's stories?"

"Oh, give it a rest! We figured out it was you like right away, man. Relax. We're all for it." He pushed the cursor, opening Steve's documents and scanning them. "Let me see your unfinished ones, e-mail them to me. I can look them over tomorrow and maybe help you complete them."

Spinning on his heel, Steve stomped to his bed, sighed, and fell face down into it. His voice was muffled when he spoke. "What did I ever do to deserve this?"

"Huh? Oh, well you fell in love with a sexy idiot genius."

"Is that all?"

"You gonna tell me who Cara is?"

Steve looked up from his pillow, "No!"

"Fine," Clint grumbled, picking up Steve's phone, "I'll find out myself."

"Wait!" Scrambling to his feet, Steve lunged at Clint, succeeding in knocking his tea to the floor, but also getting his phone out of the archer's hands. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all." Clint said, checking his watch. "I gotta go. I'll send you the link to that porn, seriously, hot as fuck." He stood. "I'll take the door this time, also, nice mug." And he was gone.

Steve was left cursing under his breath and mopping up rapidly cooling Earl Grey. "What a waste of good tea." At least none of it had gotten on the blanket. Then Steve would have to wash it, and it wouldn't smell like Tony's expensive cologne anymore. And wouldn't _that_ be a freaking travesty?

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say that Cara is a dedication to all us fangirls out there, myself included! WE ROCK!
> 
> Please think about leaving a comment, either to say if and what you want for a new interlude or to tell me that you love this story. Seeing your comments gives me confidence to write!


	6. Interlude: Somehow, It's All Natasha's Fault (We all know it's Clint's)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A group chat is never a good idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is back to the fun with Tony! And OH THE FUN! After that it's one more chapter. That's it! Unless you guys want one more interlude in between them, please let me know in the comments!
> 
> Also the group chat? It's entitled: AVENGERS ASSEMBLE TO GET STEVE AND TONY TOGETHER
> 
> The app I used cut the header off, and yes that's a pic of Robert and CEvans I MEAN TONY AND STEVE that they used for the chat photo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stupid and silly? Maybe. But the next chapter has some serious bits in it, so yuck it up while you can! And PLEASE LOVE ME AND LEAVE A COMMENT?!


	7. LIGHT BULB!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony steals a hoodie, there's dinner and TV and a bottle of vino, Natasha has no boundaries, and Tony has an OH SHIT moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something is afoot! Tony's world is about to run amok. AMOK AMOK AMOK!

7 LIGHT-BULB

Tony awoke, warm and comfortable. The sun was low and cast long shadows along the living room, and he was snuggled into the couch, wrapped in one of Steve's hoodies. It smelled like him. Like cologne and Steve's soap; it was wonderful. He had the hood up, the edge dipping over his face, and his hands were tucked into the front pocket. It was cozy. And he was alone and free to breathe in Steve's scent.

But when he opened his eyes—a sappy grin on his face—he saw Natasha, sitting on the floor and assembling a puzzle. So much for being alone.

"What the fuck."

"Shield therapist said it would help to channel my anger into something constructive." She said, not looking up from the puzzle.

Sitting up, Tony laughed sarcastically. "It working?"

"No, I fucking hate this." She groaned, tossing a piece back into the pile. "But I'm bored."

"Nothing left to kill?" She gave him a look. "Maim? Destroy?"

Making a face, she grumbled, "No." Turning, she eyed him, taking in the dark blue sweater. "That's Steve's."

"Mine now."

Shrugging she went back to the puzzle, like she could not care less. "What are your plans for the rest of the night? Gonna eat something for once?"

"I eat!" At the disbelieving look she sent over to him, he amended his statement. "I'll have you know, I went to lunch with Steve."

"That was days ago, Stark."

"I've eaten since then. I had a banana yesterday. I think. Or was that the day before?"

Rolling her eyes, she stated, "You had a bowl of Rice Chex this morning, and your weight in coffee."

He threw his arms out, "So what's the problem?"

"Steve'll be home soon, you should give that back."

Tony was up and running to the elevator in an instant, "I told you! It's mine now!"

As the elevator doors closed, she chuckled, "And you know what? I don't think he'll mind."

\---

Tony had decided, after a long talk with himself, that no matter what Steve said, the hoodie was now the property of one Anthony Edward Stark. It was comfy. It was warm. It was finders' keepers.

If it worked for toddlers, it worked for Tony.

With that in mind, he literally sauntered into the common kitchen after Jarvis informed him that Steve was home, because if you got it (the hoodie, that is), you flaunted it. "Evening, Cappy." He stalked up to the coffee maker and made sure to purposely walk in front of Steve. Let him try!

"Hey, Tony. Nice sweater."

Tony gave him his very best 'Who me?' look, and picked up the carafe, only to find it empty. "Well that's unfortunate." He turned to the cabinet that held the canister of coffee grounds, making a big show of rolling up the sleeves to the sweatshirt.

"I hope you're talking about the theft of my hoodie."

"I don't know what you're taking about." But if Tony had been facing him, he would have seen the pleased look on Steve's face.

"Pretty sure that's mine."

"Was it?" Tony did innocent almost too well. He reached up, on his tip toes, trying to pull the coffee out from the top shelf. _Who the frick put it all the way up there?_

"That's okay. You can have it. Looks better on you," Steve remarked, reaching over Tony's head to lift the can of Chock Full o' Nuts and hand it to him. Tony almost went red at the statement. Almost.

Dropping back to his heels with a clunk, he cradled the yellow container of his very own nectar of the gods against his chest protectively. "Does it?"

"I have plenty, anyway."

"Good to know."

Steve snorted, "Thief." He hitched up onto the counter, swinging his legs and kicking the bottom cabinets, smiling at Tony.

"It was on MY chair." And Tony spun away from Steve with a ridiculous flourish, like he had just won some great battle of wits (he didn't.). "Coffee?” He cringed as the thumping grew louder. “Also, that's not annoying at all."

"No, thanks." He ignored the complaint, continuing to thump his feet. "Anyone else home?" Steve asked, watching as Tony discarded the old filter and measured out what was surely too many scoops for the amount of coffee he was making before leaning back, scoop still in hand, to get a good look through the door to the living room. Natasha had cleaned up the puzzle, apparently over it, and was nowhere to be seen.

"Don't think so. Just us," he answered, pushing Steve forward a bit to get to the sink and fill the carafe with water. The heat under his hand was tantalizing. Steve was so warm; he could only imagine curling up against him an a cold and snowy night, fresh coffee in one hand, Steve's face in the other as he kissed him...

"Hungry?"

Tony blinked, drawn out from his fantasy. In answer, Tony filled the machine, turned it on, and pointed to the percolating coffee, "I got nourishment right here. Zoom Zoom Juice."

"Zoom Zoom Juice?"

He nodded. "Zoom Zoom Juice."

Steve chuckled. "But that's not food."

"It should be."

"How 'bout I make us dinner?"

Tony paused as he opened the adjacent cabinet in search of his mug. Dinner? Alone with Steve? Yes please. "What do you have in mind?" _You? Naked on my bed? Now, that's a feast!_

The soldier had already hopped from the counter and was digging through the refrigerator, plucking items, judging them, and putting them back. "Beef, pork, or chicken?"

"Is that even a question? Cow, please." Mug located, Tony snagged it off the shelf, his hand still tingling from when he touched Steve.

"Solid or chopped?"

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Solid."

"There's some New York Strip Steaks in here. Not the finest cut, but still good," Steve suggested, pulling out the meat and holding it out to show him.

Shrugging, Tony replied with a grin, "Moo is moo."

"I see you like the finer things in life."

Wait. Was Steve flirting with him? No. No way in hell. Best to ignore it. And anyway, there was coffee to think about.

"I'm a rich bastard, what did you expect?" Tony retorted instead, bouncing on his toes in anticipation as the coffee maker began sputtering its final descent into completing his ambrosia.

"Skirt steak obviously."

"Hey, with the right marinade, that shit's delicious."

"Easy to please, I see." Steve smirked. At the windowsill, he pulled two sprigs of rosemary from a planter. "I'll keep it fancy anyway."

Tony's head tilted like a dumb dog's. "When did we get the leafy stuff?"

"Nat's been growing rosemary, basil, thyme, and parsley." He answered, opening the fridge again to grab the garlic and butter. "Get the salt for me, por favor?"

"Where the fuck have I been?" Tony muttered. The coffee was finally fucking done, and he poured himself a cup, keeping it Americano, and chugging half of it. "Oh yeah, that's a good burn!" He took another gulp as he picked up the salt from the spice rack.

"Tony! Let it cool a bit!" Steve admonished, taking the salt from the genius in one hand and trying to grab the mug with the other.

"Cooled coffee is for losers!" Tony snarked, twisting away from Steve's reach. Refilling his cup, Tony eyed him long enough to groan and retrieve the half and half. "Fine. You win."

"Thank you, Lorelei Gilmore."

Tony rounded on him with overly wide and innocent eyes, "You did not."

"Oh, I did."

"I'd like to think I'm more of a Richard. Intelligent, rich, well liked."

Steve rolled his eyes, "Sure thing, Lorelei."

"Okay, Taylor."

"How DARE you."

They narrowed their eyes at each other and burst out laughing. "Whatever!" Steve grinned, "Luke and Lorelei forever, at least?"

"Duh. The real question is are you Team Dean, Team Jess, or Team Logan?"

Steve scoffed, "Logan, obviously. Rich kid with a big heart? What's not to love?"

"Smart answer."

\---

They ate in the living room, balancing plates with steak, green beans, and potatoes on their laps, arguing over the finer details of whatever crime show they were watching on Netflix, Tony convinced it was the husband who killed his wife, and Steve sure it was the sister.

Hours later, after six episodes and a bottle of white, Tony was slumped against Steve, his legs up on the couch, yelling at the television in slurred ramblings. "Oh, come on! It's so obvious! Look at him! He totally did it! Steve, look at this shit! He's so guilty you can fucking smell it."

"You know what, I agree with you on this one; look at how shifty he is in the interrogation room."

"Right? Guilty guilty guilty." He looked at Steve. "Throw the book at 'em!"

Tony was drunk, but rather proud that he had somehow managed to not only _not_ confess his love (conceal, don't feel!), but also that he was pressed against him. And Steve was _letting him._

They were both wrong, but that didn't stop the guessing, and when Bruce returned during the opening credits of the next episode, he took one look at the two of them on the couch, pulled out his phone, and high tailed it out of there.

"That was weird." Steve commented, his arm over the back of the couch behind Tony. He was itching to drape it over the smaller man's shoulders.

"Yeah, but it's Bruce."

"That's true. Five bucks that lead agent head-slaps the good looking one in this episode."

Tony scoffed. "I'm not taking that bet." He paused. "Twenty that the nerdy one hacks into something governmental."

Steve contemplated. "Okay. You're on."

But, twenty minutes later, they were interrupted by hushed whispers coming from the kitchen. When they went to investigate, the other four Avengers were standing around the island staring dumbly at Steve and Tony in the doorway.

"Why'd you move?" Natasha asked, and Tony found it funny that she didn't say "Why did you get up?" Not funny in the 'haha' way, but funny in the 'what the actual fuck' way.

"Huh?" Ah, Steve. So eloquent.

"You guys looked...cozy." she frowned, eyeing them both, particularly Tony in Steve's sweater.

"Stark's a little tipsy, I should get him to bed anyway." Steve had a feeling he knew exactly what was up. And he'd be yelling at them all later for the whole fanfiction thing, rest assured.

"Oh?" That was Clint. Steve glared at him.

"Good night!" Steve said instead of responding, taking Tony's bicep and leading him to the elevator. The genius stumbled a bit before catching his feet and trailing after him, not like he had a choice.

But seriously, what was this? Was Steve taking him to bed? Was his dream coming true?

Nope!

Steve literally tucked him, put a glass of water on the bedside table, and left.

Fuck. Guess it was time to rub one out. Again.

The next morning brought a slight headache (wine hangover, ugh!), and Natasha fucking Romanoff sitting at the foot of his bed, playing on her phone.

"Morning, sunshine," she sang as soon he opened his eyes.

"Go away, she-devil."

"And miss how perky you are after you downed an entire bottle of wine all by your onesies? Absolutely not."

"Ugh." Tony groaned, pulling the blankets over his head.

"Oh no, it's time to get up. Rise and shine, honey bear!" With one strong pull, the blankets were ripped off his body. _Meanie_. "I've got coffee in your Captain America travel mug—by the way, that's so sweet I think I just got a cavity—and lunch reservations at Gino's. We need to have a talk."

"Nooooo...."

But she wasn't listening. She tossed a pair of clean jeans and briefs at him. "Keep the hoodie on; it's adorable. But change your pants." And walked back to his dresser to pull out a pair of socks.

"Oh my god, WHY ARE YOU IN MY UNDERWEAR DRAWER! IS NOTHING SACRED?!"

The rolled-up socks bounced off his head. "Don't make me throw your sneakers at you too!"

"Uck, okay, fine!" He growled, sitting up and huffing to the side of the bed, dramatically tossing pillows out of his way. "I'm up! I'm up! Gimme the coffee!"

"Pants first."

"Pants...what?" Looking down, Tony was still wearing Steve's (uhh, his own) hoodie and just his briefs from the day before. How did that... "Natasha. Uhm. I don't know how to ask this but..."

"Nothing happened. Steve was a perfect gentleman."

"Not him I'm worried about! He's got no interest in me!" She actually screamed in frustration, silencing him for just a moment. Then, "You need to talk about whatever it is that's bothering you?"

The look she gave him had better men running for the hills, but Tony was well adjusted to the Black Widow stare. "Just...you...both of you...UGH. Boys are stupid!"

He looked at her blankly. "This is news...How?"

"Just get dressed! We have to be down in Chelsea in an hour, Happy is waiting."

That put a hop on Tony's step. "Happy! Why didn't you say so?!"

"I-you...I mean...Asshole."

"I'm just saying, lead with that next time."

\---

"Hiya, Happy!" Tony called out as they left the building.

"Boss! Fancy seeing you here."

Tony laughed, "Been too long, mi amigo, how's it hanging?"

Happy opened the back door and grinned, "Slightly to the left."

Natasha made a face, a combination amused and grossed out one, as she slid into the back seat beside Tony. "This whole being close to people thing is getting ridiculous."

"Why's that?" asked Tony as Happy got into the driver's side.

"You all share too much."

"Oh, I can share more, if you want."

"Oh, no, I'm good. Really. I'm good."

Tony's grin was devilish, "But, Natashalie, you saw me in the throes of passion, there's no barriers between us anymore!"

"That's great, except for the whole part about being one of hundreds if not thousands that have seen that."

"Ouch. Low blow."

She smirked triumphantly, "Low blow? Thought you liked that."

"Nice double entendre. On-wards, faithful steed!" Tony called out, earning a snort from Happy as he pulled into the traffic.

They arrived just in time for the reservations, and made their way past faux cultured hipsters, more knowledgeable tourists who knew to eat off the beaten path, and locals raised on Gino's food. Natasha had requested a booth in the far corner, letting the hostess know in advance that a celebrity was coming to eat and wanted some peace. She was talking about Tony, because (it seemed) she tended to forget her face was almost just as well recognized these days.

They turned heads as they weaved through the tables, two heroes, beautiful and strong, one deadly in her training, the other more intelligent than anyone in that restaurant combined. Some of the looks they received were of a different appreciation, though. Tony knew Natasha could recognize them just as he did: the leers, the envy, the lust.

With a bolt of clarity, he figured out exactly what Natasha wanted to talk to him about.

Shit.

"Nats," he said as he slid into their booth, using one of his nicknames she wasn't fine with but for whatever reason allowed him to say, "If this about the whole subway fiasco, save it."

"Ha!" She said with a sarcastic glint. "Not going to happen."

"Listen, sugar plum, knowing me means knowing I got some screws loose, I got some unconventional ideas about things-"

"-Oh, no you don't!" He shut up. "That's not an unconventional idea, Tony. I know your unconventional idiosyncrasies: keeping yourself awake until you finish a project, punishing yourself by taking on more than one person can handle, basically starving yourself into some sort of manic ideology that you think better on an empty stomach; they're all stupid. But I can live with them because we can force feed you, or drag your dumb ass to your bed. They can be corrected when need be. You're a genius, your brain works differently than the rest of us normal people; I can live with that. WE can live with that because we also know we're there to help when it's necessary. But thinking you don't deserve common decency? Hell fucking no. That's where I draw the damn line."

Tony had never heard her speak so much in one go, and it momentarily shocked him quiet. He blinked, slowly gathering his thoughts. There had to be some way to salvage this situation. "Tashy," he said, the moniker was his alone, no one else could call her that, and she more than tolerated it from him. She actually loved it; it was endearing. "I was raised in a different world than any of you. There are things that were expected of me. Being a genius only added more, but I was born looking like this," he gestured to his face, "and into a wealthy, famous, and high societal family. People like thinking they can touch the good looking rich man." At her murderous look, he hurried on, "it was always a bargaining chip, you know? It made them feel special to take my hand or put their arm around me. It's not like I okayed anyone to, you know, take me. I wouldn't allow that happen! You know how I feel about that. Don't you remember? A few months ago, that guy was all over that girl and she was visibly upset?"

"You punched him."

He held his two pointer fingers up to punctuate his point. "I punched him."

"Knocked his ass clear out, too. Honestly, it was beautiful."

Mock bowing as much as he could while seated in a booth, he said, "Why thank you. I try."

She was exasperated. "Tony, that's all well and good, but you don't seem to have the same ideas about someone touching you. It's like you think you're not worthy and- Holy fuck, you don't think you are!" Natasha's eyes went wide, a look Tony wasn't familiar with on her. Confusion. Shock. Disbelief.

"Hey, now stop that. I'm awesome. I'm a hot genius. You think I don't know that?"

"No! I don't think you do!" She dropped her head to her hands. And here she spent years thinking she was the most damaged of all. But there were different types, weren't there? "I knew you put on a show for the media, I just didn't realize how bad it was. No wonder you refuse to see how much Steve is in love with you! You don't think you're good enough for him!"

Tony's elbow jolted out in surprise, sending his water glass shattering to the floor. "Steve is not in love with me, Tashy."

"God, you're so stupid sometimes."

They sheepishly tried to help as the bus boy cleaned up the broken pieces of the cup, muttering apologies and trying to dab the spilled water with their cloth napkins. He brushed them away, "All good, sir and madam, it goes this way a lot."

"I'm a bit clumsy today," Tony said, sitting up and looking a bit red.

"Not a problem, I get you another." His soft voice and accent were soothing, and as he left to retrieve another glass, Tony pulled his wallet out to pluck a few large bills. When the bus boy returned, he surreptitiously slid them into his apron; a nice surprise for the young man to find later. "Your waiter be here soon," he was saying, setting the new cup down, completely oblivious that he was now a few hundred dollars richer, "ah, yes, here. This is Angelo." And he hurried away as a Jersey Shore looking Guido approached, but Tony knew better than to judge, as the MTV series didn't show the culture as it really was: smart, capable people with a stubborn streak. Tony had felt the same misconception as a teenager and in his twenties, no matter how many years had past since the mass migration from the early twentieth century, people still looked at Italians as imbeciles.

They talked with him about college, about what his goals were, small talk that turned into something bigger when Tony found out that he was in school for engineering. Angelo's father was a mechanic on the island, and he loved machines and technology. Tony got his name and number, tucking it away and making a true promise to get him an intern position at Stark Industries for the summer, so long as his grades were good. Angelo promised they were, and took their orders, a happy hop on his step as he raced back into the kitchen to share the news with his co-workers.

When he was gone, Natasha turned her attention back to Tony. "That's what I mean. You play this part, this anti-hero to the public. Narcissistic asshole inventor. But you've got such a soft spot for the intelligent youth, the underdogs trying to make it where you had a silver spoon." Tony made a face at that. He wasn't exactly keen on her having him so pegged.

"Who knows what I would've been had it not been for the family money. I'm just trying to even the score."

"And after all you've survived and accomplished, you still don't think you deserve any of it! Tony, for fuck's sake, all your family's money did was ensure you wouldn't have debt when you graduated. Everything else, you created yourself!"

"I need a drink."

"You need a swift kick in the ass is what you need."

"Nats, come on. I was lucky." He moved his water glass away from him, just in case. "I just want to share the luck."

"Share it with yourself, first. You deserve it. And you deserve Steve."

He made a face, "Is that why you're writing those stories?"

"Oh, for the love of-You're infuriating! Do you know that?!" Her fingers twitched, like she wanted to knock some sense into him, literally.

"Come on! Who else could it be? Not Clint, he can barely string two sentences together in an e-mail, not Thor, he's only just learning how to navigate our technology. Bruce? Please. He would never write about me, let alone write about Steve."

"And Steve?" She said, raising her eyebrows and rocking her head forwards, her body language screaming DUH in stereo.

"What about Steve? He still prefers pad and pencil. Oh, yeah," his voice took on his signature sarcasm, "He's also straight."

She sighed. "You really are an idiot."

Ignoring her, he continued, "I figured out it was one of you because whenever I mentioned a kink I have, it ended up in the next story. I figured out it was _you_ because _you_ are not so subtle when you gloat."

"I was gloating because I knew you were both in love with each other!" She paused, "Also it was kinda fun watching you two suffer and flirt and not fucking realize it."

"Sadist."

"Masochist."

"Don't kink shame me."

She laughed at that, loudly and fully, her whole body shaking, and her eyes tearing. Tony loved when she let herself go enough to really laugh. It softened the hard lines on her face and made her eyes go bright with her joy. Happy was a good look on her, and he promised he'd find a way to make the look permanent.

When she calmed, she dabbed her eyes and grinned, "I don't know how you assholes did it, but I love each of you as I would my own stupid brothers. I should hate you for that."

"What? Is the great Black Widow finally feeling an emotion other than the urge to kill?"

"Oh, no, that's still there."

"Wouldn't want to upset the balance of things, would we?"

She tapped the knife in her place setting, "It's all about balance."

"So they say."

When their food came, they ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, before Natasha took up the previous conversation. "No one has the right to touch you without your consent, Tony, even if it's a nonverbal one. You don't have to explicitly say yes to someone putting their hand on your arm, but some jackass grabbing your bubble butt? No, they don't get to do that unless you expressly say they can."

"I am proud of my tush."

"As you should be. I could bounce a quarter off that thing. All the squats in the world won't give me an ass like that. But you're missing the point."

"No, I get it. I'll try to be more aware of my own boundaries in the future."

"Like that woman in the video said, it doesn't matter who you are, no one gets a free pass to grab at you like you're nothing but a package of meat."

"Can I at least be filet mignon?"

She laughed again, "That's the spirit!"

"Got a lot to unlearn, apparently."

"And we'll help you." It was so earnest, so sweet, so not Natasha that Tony had to look away to get his emotions under control. "And it is Steve." She continued. "I wasn't going to say anything, I was going to let this play out, but you're so in denial, I got fed up." She paused, reaching out to turn his face back to hers, "He loves you. So much that he's willing to live vicariously through fanfiction just to get a taste of being with you."

"Tashy, I appreciate what you're trying to accomplish. I do! But Steven Rogers could never love a guy like me. He's all virtuous and honorable. And I'm..."

"What? What Tony, what are you?" Her eyes had narrowed, ready to correct him.

"I'm an asshole inventor trying to be a better person and honestly failing half the time. All the money in the world can't make me as good as he is."

And the sad part? She knew he actually believed it.

\---

His keys clanged when they hit the metal bowl just inside his door. He dropped his wallet on top and toed off his sneakers, letting out an exhausted sigh. Natasha was relentless. She meant well, but sometimes she was just too much.

He had a lot to think about though.

Not Steve, of course, because no matter how hard she tried, there was no way he believed that Steve wrote those smut stories. It was near impossible to picture Steve at his laptop, writing about eating Tony out in public, or fucking him on the sofa in his workshop, as wonderful as that thought could be.

Steve not entirely straight? He might believe that. No one had known Tony was bisexual, it wasn't like there was a particular tell to see if someone was gay. Hope bloomed in Tony's chest, but he squashed it. Even if Steve was some form of _not-straight_ , that didn't mean he wanted anything to do with Tony.

But fictional Steve? He wanted everything Tony had and then some. In fact...

Tony pulled his phone out and refreshed StonyFan1918's page, whooping loudly when he saw a new story, his cock already stirring.

"It's sexy time!" Tony celebrated, tossing the heavy talk with Natasha from his mind. Jerking off required only happy thoughts. Things like Steve's lips, his fingers, his tongue... "Jarvis. Assume the position!"

There was a pause. "Bed or couch, sir?" Was that disappointment Tony heard in the AI's voice? _Nah_.

"Bed." Tony was kicking his pants off, stroking his dick a few times before he moved to take the hoodie off.

And stopped. It still smelled like Steve. And wouldn't that be perfect? Getting off while surrounded by the scent of the man he was hopelessly in love with?

The sweater stayed on, and he flopped back on his bed, shoving a few pillows underneath himself and grabbing the lube, the dildo, and the vibrator from his nightstand. It never hurt to be prepared.

The page appeared on the screen above his head, and Tony ran his hands down his inner thighs, trying to pretend it was Steve's fingers that dipped into the crevice that connected his thigh to his body, and ran his hands up his torso, slowly pressing into his waist and reaching up to rub his nipples. His hips began to move on their own, arousal cascading through him.

Closing his eyes, Tony let one hand drag down to his cock, his breath coming out in a wisp as he moaned. "Steve..."

He made quick work of preparing himself, having to squeeze his balls to stop himself from coming too soon, too worked up from all the time he had spent with Steve, too overwhelmed with how much he loved him.

And what was not to love? Steve was kind, funny, smart, and gorgeous. He was perfect. What could he possibly see in someone like Tony?

Shaking his head, Tony chastised himself, "Cut the shit, Stark. Enjoy what you have."

And without another thought, he began to read.

_**Rough Night In** _

_Steve was furious. He honestly didn't think he had ever been as mad as he was, and not at Tony. Maybe at Howard, maybe at Maria for not instilling in their son that nobody had a right to touch him, maybe at the people who thought it was just fine and dandy to put their hands on another person without their consent, but not at Tony. He could never be mad at him._

_Tony. HIS Tony. His sweet angel of a man who tried so hard to show a tough, hardened exterior to the world but was really just so damn squishy. And it wasn't fair. It wasn't right. Tony did so much good, he was constantly giving all of himself to his projects, working on pro-bono things for the city, making sure the Avengers always had the safest uniforms, the best weapons, and constantly working on new tech to further advance the world whether it was cellphones, computers, or medical equipment._

_He deserved all the kindness in the world. He had been through so much, and still Tony had hope for a better future. Steve loved him fiercely. If it hadn't have been for that unfortunate incident on the subway, he was going to ask him out. On a date. A real date. Dinner somewhere fancy, maybe dancing. But then that slime-ball had grabbed his Tony's ass, and the ensuing discussion about consent and Tony's disbelief that he deserved something he would fight for with anyone else...well. It hadn't been the time and place. They had enjoyed their day together, the museum, the park, the Churros...it was all a taste of what they could have if Steve just got enough balls to ask for it._

_But what if Steve hadn't have been there? What if that man hurt Tony? What if the touching went beyond grabbing his ass? Would Tony have stopped him? Would he have allowed that man to violate him in full view of the public just because he didn't want to cause a scene and because he thought it just went with being who he was?_

_Steve was seeing red._

_No. Not okay. And Tony belonged to HIM. He couldn't wait any longer._

_If Tony wanted it rough, he'd get it rough. If he wanted it gentle and loving, he could have that as well. As long as it's what he wanted._

_And Steve would make sure of that._

A Steve that was protective as well as possessive of Tony? That had the engineer's cock taking notice. But the rest...it hit a little too close to home. Tony wanted Steve, all of him. Including the worry that the story gave.

But the writing was making him delve back into the darker thoughts of that morning, something he didn't want. He wanted to escape the disapproving frowns of his teammates, the media speculation of just how much had been done to him in the past, and the posts on Twitter and Facebook from fans and others alike, horrified that Tony thought so little of himself.

His carefully crafted persona was crumbling, all because of one asshole and three pricks with cellphones. Tony hated the idea of anyone not within his circle knowing how fucked up he truly was.

He sighed, dramatically enough to have Jarvis answering with a quiet, "Sir?" before looking back up at the screen.

_Almost a whole week had passed since the subway incident, and he and Tony had been spending more time together. Steve had even cooked him dinner that night. They joked about Gilmore Girls, both laughing at the fact that it was one of their secret guilty pleasures. They watched TV, a network crime show they started to binge watch together, and Steve couldn't wait to finish the series with him. And Tony, his sweet Tony, leaning on Steve as he drank_ _some vintage wine, and snuggling into one of Steve's own hoodies that the soldier had left out in plain sight on Tony's favorite arm chair, just hoping the genius would snatch it up._

_Seeing him swathed in the over-sized material, the hem reaching to Tony's mid-thigh, the hood large and covering a good chunk of his face...it was amazing. Tony looked so cute. So adorable and cozy. He kept holding his hands in the pocket and tucking the bottom over his knees, absolutely disappearing into the sweater in comfort and warmth, and Steve was going insane. Had he known how precious this would be, he would have left his clothes out long before this for Tony to steal._

_When they had finished the wine, the plates lay empty, and yet another episode was starting, Steve moved just enough to see Tony's face._

_It was now or never._

_"Hey, Tones?"_

_"Mm?" Tony responded sleepily._

_"Can I kiss you?"_

_With wide eyes, Tony leaned his head back to see Steve more clearly. "Why?"_

_"Because I love you." It was all Steve wanted. All he never dared to say._

_"Yes," Tony breathed. "Yes. You can kiss me."_

Tony swallowed. How exactly did Natasha know so many details of their dinner? Their conversation? How Tony had tucked himself into the hoodie for warmth?

They were in the kitchen at some point, the rest of the team, but not long enough to see all that. Right?

Tony's cock lay forgotten against his abdomen, the story had held just enough truth to make him ache a little, and he couldn't stop reading if he tried.

_His lips were soft when Steve tasted them for the first time, bending down to give Tony a chaste kiss, but it was like a bolt of confidence as Tony's breath met his and Steve sat up straighter, moving Tony so he was facing Steve and kissing him again, this time deeper, pushing all the passion he had inside himself into it. Tony gasped, his hands going to Steve's thighs to steady himself and he kissed back, opening his mouth to let Steve in._

_When the soldier cupped his face, Tony lifted himself, throwing a leg over the other's lap so he was straddling him and taking Steve's face in his own hands, the sleeves of the hoodie covering half of his palms. The blond let his fingers drop to Tony's waist, loving the feel of the slender body where it dipped and then popped back out to a full, round ass. Tony was too beautiful for words._

_They kissed, just like that, for several minutes. Mapping out each other's mouths, feeling the other's body, hands running away across clothed skin, sometimes drifting up under shirts, that hoodie..._

_When Tony grinded down against Steve's dick and he felt how hard the genius was, that was it. With a strength that surprised even Tony, he stood, laughing as the smaller man gave a squeak and wrapped his legs tightly around Steve's waist._

_"Promise I won't drop you." And they were kissing again, Steve making his way blindly to the hallway. They bumped into walls, stumbled once, knocked something over...but Tony never felt like he was in any danger. He felt secure. Protected._

God, if Steve only knew. Just being around the man made Tony feel more secure than ever had before. He felt safe with him, something he couldn't remember ever feeling, save for maybe once when he was a child, and Maria Stark had been sober enough to spend actual quality time with him.

Once again, those dark thoughts had to go. So, Tony mentally shut the drawer he kept them in and locked it.

He turned the vibrator on, readying himself, and pressing it against his opening, bringing himself back into the present. Steve carrying him. Fuck, that was a whole fantasy.

_And when they reached Steve's room, he carefully laid Tony down onto his bed. "Can I have you?" It was so important that Steve get permission, imperative that Tony understood he had a right to say no, that if he wanted to, this would all end. It was his body. His choice._

_"Yes." And Tony's eyes darkened. "Fuck me, Steve."_

_"Take your clothes off for me. I want to see how beautiful you are."_

_Tony blushed, but complied, sitting up to remove first the hoodie, then the crumpled t-shirt underneath. Steve dropped to his knees, leaning forwards to kiss the arc reactor and the skin around it, gently loving the scars, because they meant Tony was still alive, still here for him to do this. Leaning back, he smiled shyly at Tony. "Go on." And Tony laughed. God, he loved his laugh; his face crinkled, the laugh lines showing and brightening up his eyes, those dark, wonderful eyes that held such intelligence, such pain, such breathtaking beauty._

_Tony unbuttoned his jeans, lifting his hips to slide them off, and Steve pulled the denim from his feet, tossing it over his shoulder. When Tony's thumbs hooked into his briefs, Steve stilled them with his own hands for just a moment. "You're sure?"_

_"Is this a one time thing?"_

_"No. I plan on loving you forever."_

_"Then yes, I'm sure." And he pushed the fabric down and off, and they joined his jeans on the other side of the room._

_Steve was struck silent. He was more beautiful than he could have ever guessed. Every strip of smooth skin, every scar, the curve of his hips, his sculpted abdomen...prefect. He ran his fingertips over Tony's thighs, leaned in to kiss his stomach, gently tracing his adorable outtie belly button, causing Tony to giggle._

_"Can I...can I see you?"_

_Steve nodded and stood. Taking his clothes off, trying so hard for it to be sexy but instead fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, catching the zipper of his jeans against its own fabric, but Tony didn't seem to care. He was pulling Steve down on top of him, spreading his legs so the soldier could nestle in between them, and kissing him again with a hunger that spilled from his mouth into his fingers that clenched the back of Steve's head. Their cocks rubbed together, sending them both into moans._

The twitch of his own erection reminded Tony of why he was reading this in the first place. He felt breathless. Like Steve was actually kissing him, and he wrapped a hand around himself, groaning with the feeling.

Somehow, this was the best story yet. And he hadn't even gotten to the really sexy stuff yet.

Spreading his legs wider, Tony pushed the vibrator in, moaning low at the feeling. "God, yes!"

_"I won't let anyone else ever touch me again," Tony said, pulling away from the kiss, "I'll be only yours."_

_"All mine? Always?"_

_"Promise."_

_Steve lightly kissed Tony's eyelids, causing another soft giggle to bubble up. "As long as you respect yourself. As long as you understand that this can stop at any point."_

_"I know. I'd never let you or anyone take advantage of me." Tony said, his palms cupping Steve's face._

_Steve nodded, satisfied, and kissed him again, slowly moving his body to create the friction they so desperately wanted._

_It was Tony's next words that had the mood changing in the most delicious way._

_"I thought you were going to fuck me. Hard."_

_Steve was up in an instant, rummaging around in his dresser, before finding what he needed and climbing back into the bed triumphantly._

_Raising an eyebrow at the bottle of lube, Tony chuckled, "The great Captain America, not so innocent, huh?"_

_"You ain't seen nothing yet, doll."_

_"Prove it."_

_Steve's eyes grew dark at that. He sat back on his knees, dragging his nails down Tony's inner thighs, from knee to groin, and smirked. Tony moaned, his eyes fluttering closed._

_"Look at me, baby. Open those gorgeous eyes for me."_

_Tony's eyes snapped back open. "I need you inside of me. Now."_

_Lubbing his fingers quickly, Steve pressed one against Tony's opening, grinning when Tony let out an aroused gasp. He pushed it in, crooking it up and relishing the deep and startled moan Tony released._

_"More," Tony demanded, "I need more."_

_"Patience, angel," Steve muttered, working the digit in and out until the give of the muscle wasn't so tight. On the outwards stroke, he added another finger and pressed in. Tony's head fell back at that._

_"Yes!"_

"Fuck," Tony muttered, pushing the vibrator in just a little deeper. What was it about Steve's hands that set him off so much? The long fingers, the strength behind them...the fact that he was impossibly strong but still so gentle. It sent a shiver through Tony's body.

Reaching down, he cupped his testicles, rolling them softly and groaning. Steve's hand could cover them completely, wrap around them, stroke them carefully, or tug on them wantonly, stopping Tony from coming, edging him.

_Steve smirked again. "Ya like that?" He said, scissoring his fingers. Tony was melting below him._

_"So fucking good. More!"_

_"Pushy, pushy," Steve murmured, but added a third finger anyway._

_"Just fuck me already!"_

_"With an attitude like that..."_

_Tony had enough. He snapped upright and grabbed Steve, flipping them over and straddling his waist. "You love my attitude."_

_"I love you."_

_Leaning down, Tony kissed him. "I love you too. Now," he grinned, "suck my cock."_

_Steve grabbed two handfuls of Tony's perfect ass, pulling him up his chest and taking him into his mouth._

_"Oh, fuck!" Tony yelled, gripping the headboard._

_It was hard not to, so Tony gave in, just a little, and carefully thrust into Steve's mouth, just a few inches, not enough to gag him, but enough to make what was already a prefect blow job even better._

_Steve's fingers slipped into him again, and Tony swore he saw stars. "Fuck, Steve, you keep that up, this'll be over real quick."_

Tony bit his lip. Topping from the bottom, they called it. And it fit him to a t.

Just one night, that's all he wanted. One night to tell Stevie Boy what to do to make him come. Suck him. Fuck him. Eat him. He'd give anything for it.

But the thought of submitting to Steve was tantalizing as well. Being used by him, a fuck toy. Open and willing to accept every drop of come.

Tony pushed down on the vibrator, sending the tip up and into his prostate. "Ohh, fuck, Steve...fuck!"

He really did have it bad.

_With a burst of energy, Steve knocked them backwards, Tony's head landing at the foot of the mattress. "We don't want that do we?"_

_"Let me suck you. I want to taste that gorgeous cock." Steve loved the fact that Tony was completely nonplussed about Steve flipping him._

_"Oh yeah? You got use for that mouth other than flapping off all day?"_

_"Gimme that dick and I'll prove it." Steve got on his knees, backing up so Tony could crawl up to him, he bent over, leaning on one elbow, and wrapped his hand around it. With a final look up at Steve, he took him in, wrapping his lips around his teeth and going to town. Steve felt his body buckle, and gripped Tony's hair to steady himself. "Go ahead," Tony said, pulling back for just a moment. "I like when my hair gets pulled."_

_"Yeah, of course you do." Steve groaned, giving an experimental tug. When Tony moaned, back to sucking the life out of Steve, he pulled harder, slipping his fingers close to his scalp and tugging. Tony moaned again, the vibration going right through Steve's cock._

_"You're a dirty one, aren't you?"_

_Tony chuckled, "I'm not opposed to dirty talk. Want me to be your slutty boy? Your whore?"_

_Steve let out a whimper, loving the idea of Tony being his little filthy whore. But not tonight. Tonight was for them to claim each other. "What I want is your ass."_

_"Then fuck me already!"_

_In a blink, Steve had Tony up and against the wall sized window across from the bed. "Tell me, who gets to touch you?"_

_Tony was clawing at Steve's chest, like he could climb him and mount him right there. "You do. Only you."_

_"Wrong answer. I do if you say I'm allowed. Am I allowed?"_

_"Yes! Fucking damn it! YES!"_

_Steve gripped his hips and lifted him, smirking again as Tony's legs went instinctively around his waist. Using the window to help hold him up along with his right arm, he used his left to line up his dick with Tony's anus, dropping him onto it._

Tony almost came right there. He quickly squeezed himself to stop the orgasm, gasping at how quick the intensity built.

Against the window in Steve's room, for all of the city to see. Put on display like he was Steve's artwork, something to be admired from afar, but no touching. Not unless you were the artist. Not unless you were Steve.

_Tony screamed in pleasure, one hand flailing back to slam against the glass to steady himself, the other to wrap under Steve's left arm, hooking himself into place. "Fuck, yes! Finally!"_

_Giving him a moment to adjust, Steve crushed his lips against Tony's, kissing him speechless for a second, before pulling back so he could thrust into the willing body._

_Tony's head fell back against the pane, "Oh my fucking mother of all things Holy! Your dick is amazing!"_

_"Do you ever shut up?"_

_"No! Now fuck me harder!"_

_So he did. Sweat was building between Tony's back and the glass, making him slide against it easier, and Steve used the momentum to lift him and drop him in time with his own thrusts. He latched his mouth to the spot where his neck met his shoulder and sucked hard, marking him._

_"Mine." He said in satisfaction, when a bruise was already starting to form._

_"Yours. Fuck! All yours!" Tony's ass was clenching around him, and he felt the hardness of his cock bouncing in between them, precome flicking from the tip, Tony's arousal obvious and heated._

_He was loud. Vocal. And it turned Steve on even more to hear the grunts, the moans, the curses..._

_Steve pulled him from the window and tossed him on the bed. Tony landed with a bounce, his hands going straight to his ass to slip inside himself, a long moan escaping as he finger fucked his own hole, body arching with every tap against his prostate. Steve admired him for a moment, before climbing onto the bed and pulling Tony into his lap, forcefully removing his fingers and throwing his legs around his body, "Mine!" He growled, and Tony keened at that._

_"Yours!"_

_Steve lifted Tony and slammed his dick into him, bringing him down hard and deep in the new position._

_"Oh, oh, fuck yes!" Tony threw his head back, his fingertips digging into the skin on Steve's back and dragging long marks of red across his shoulders._

_The pain of the nails surged through Steve's body; he was surprised to find it only amplified the intense pleasure. He was causing Tony to lose control. Him. No one else. Steve Rogers was the reason Tony Stark was completely undone._

_Like a piston, he surged in and out of Tony's body, the angle prefect for keeping constant pressure on Tony's prostate. He wrapped his arms tightly around the genius so he could lift him just enough to slam in and out of him, both of them reaching for their climax, the grunts and moans intermingling with their sweat, their bodies._

Tony's fist was a blur on his own cock, the vibrator pulsing against him. His mouth hung open, the moans like puffs of air, his lungs searing.

"God, yes. Toss me around like a fucking rag doll!" Being manhandled by Steve, fuck, this fic was hitting so many of his kinks.

_Tony's nails dug in deeper, and Steve thought he felt a drop of blood slide down his back. He was close, the soldier knew, and he hadn't even touched Tony's cock yet. It made Steve wonder if Tony could come from what he was doing to his prostate alone._

_It was a perfect opportunity to find out._

_Mouth attacking Tony's neck, Steve threw him onto his back, jerking the smaller man's hips up onto his own thighs and slamming into him again, pulling out the whole way and thrusting back inside, again and again, so the head of his cock hit into Tony's prostate each time. Tony's hand, which had been gripping Steve's shoulder, moved to grab his leaking erection, but Steve gripped his wrist and forced it above the genius' head, holding it tight and still. "No. You're gonna come from me alone." He accentuated his words with another hard and deep thrust._

_Tony's moans were staccato in their rhythm, each sound punctuated by the feel of Steve's cock head rubbing his prostate. His balls were drawing up. So close now._

_"Steve, fuck, I want to come!"_

_"Do it, baby. Come for me. Show me. Show me how you can come just from being fucked."_

_Those words, they were all it took. Tony's head snapped back, his neck taut, a scream on his lips as his orgasm blasted through him, his come jetting up in between them, hitting his face, his chest, his body rocking with the onslaught of so much pleasure._

_Leaning back, now that Tony was finished, Steve took his own pleasure. Fucking with abandon, in and out, until his hips seized and he emptied himself inside of Tony, body jerking with the waves of his climax._

_Sated, he withdrew from the pliant body underneath him, falling back to his bottom and staring at Tony, amazed._

_Tony was on his back, knees still bent, feet in the air. Steve's come was dripping from his hole and his own glittered on his torso and cheek. His chest heaving, and his hips still rocking, just slightly, in the aftermath. His eyes were half closed, and his arms were above his head, fingers dangling in exhaustion._

_He was fucking beautiful._

_It took a bit, but Steve managed to stand and wet a washcloth in the bathroom. He cleaned them both up, kissed Tony sweetly, and tugged them both to the head of the bed, draping the blankets over then. They fell asleep quickly, and in the morning, he made love gently to Tony, worshiping his body and slowly drawing an intense orgasm from him._

_And the next time some asshole tried to put his hands on HIS boyfriend, Steve knocked him flat out._

Wrecked in the best way, Tony grabbed the dildo. Holding the two toys together, he pushed them both inside of himself.

"Fuck! Fucking hell! Steve!" His voice was growing hoarse, the combination of the two toys sending him close to the edge. He let go of his cock, determined to come just like his counterpart in the story.

He _could_ do it—had done it before.

If anyone could make him come without touching himself, it was Steve. Perfect Steve. His Steve. His sweet friend, who may never be anything but, someone to love from afar, someone to cook dinner with, watch Gilmore Girls with and not be ashamed with, someone who...

Tony jumped up, ripping the toys from his body before he could come, he stumbled, almost falling back to the bed, before letting out a string of curses.

"Fuck! Fucking shit! Are you fucking kidding me?"

The realization hit him hard, and now that he knew, he felt so incredibly stupid for not figuring it out sooner. It was never Natasha. It was _always_ Steve. _He wrote the stories!_ And Tony felt a spark of hope flare to life inside his chest.

Maybe he did have a chance, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH SNAP
> 
> He finally figured it out!
> 
> Feed my poor ego and leave a comment? Pretty please with a naked Steve and Tony on top???


	8. Worthy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony knows it's Steve. Now it's time to act. If only he wasn't a total hot mess. But there's sweetness, chocolate, reassurance, and a bathtub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The final chapter!!
> 
> I'm surprisingly very sad about ending this.
> 
> I'd like to thank several people in helping make this fic a reality. Shannon, the bringer of plot bunnies who goaded me into this. Lan, for patiently beta-ing for me and her uncanny ability to decipher my typos. Tiffany for her unfailing encouragement and words of wisdom. And Steph and Emma for taking the time to read the last chapter and offer words of advice. And YOU! The readers! I could never have done this without your kind words and squeeing! I love each and every one of you!
> 
> I'm so thankful! My cup is overflowing!!

8.

It was too much to digest all at once, so Tony took a shower instead. It was, after all, the best 'think box' out there. He let the water wash away the day and scrubbed his body clean, all the while obsessing over every detail he had missed:

  * _The fact that every kink in the stories, Steve had been told at one point or another, throughout knowing the man._

  * _The way he fumbled his words and fled the first day when Tony showed everyone the stories._

  * _His embarrassment whenever Tony caught him with his laptop._

  * _The way he had started to want to be around Tony more once he found out he was bisexual._

  * _The protectiveness on the subway._

  * _The way the photographs in the museum showed how Steve looked at him when Tony wasn't aware._

  * _How Steve had led them to the very same bridge from the story._

  * _Letting Tony keep the sweater and blatantly flirting with him (though at the time, Tony didn't think he was.)._

  * _And what Natasha said. She didn't lie about things like this. It wasn't her style. She had said Steve was in love with him._




Could it really be true? Could Steve want Tony? Even if the genius didn't think he was good enough, Steve sure seemed to think so. That had to mean something, right?

He trimmed his beard thoughtfully and applied his lotion carefully, lightly scenting his face with the Armani lotion he was so fond of. He needed to look and smell his best when he spoke to Steve. Because that was what was next, wasn't it? Now that he figured it out, he had to tell him.

Tony had stood in his own way long enough. It was time for action. If he even had a modicum of a chance at happiness with Steve, this was it, right? He couldn't blow it.

Mulling over his closet, Tony fingered one of his best suits. But Steve wouldn't like that, would he? He preferred the more casual Tony, had basically said as much himself. Instead, he pulled out a pair of his best fitted jeans, dark blue and tight enough to hug the curve of his ass, and a red t-shirt with the Aerosmith logo on it. The shirt fit perfectly, dipped enough in the waist to show off Tony's lean and sculpted body, the sleeves the right length to enhance his strong arms. And he looked fucking fantastic in red, everyone told him so.

He threw everything onto a clean spot on the bed, lest he ended up with a smear of lube on his shirt, and that just would not do. Nope. It wouldn't. From his dresser, he picked through his underwear, still a mess from Natasha's rooting through it. Oh well. He plucked a pair of black silky briefs. Just in case.

Together with dark boots, his hair gelled into a mussed but stylish form, and a spritz of his favorite Jean Paul Gaultier cologne, Tony was ready. Or as ready as he could be, with his heart pounding and his palms cold with sweat.

Briefly, he toyed with the idea of changing the sheets, but honestly, he didn't want to get his hopes up and if they _were_ just going to mess them up again...He pulled a random flat sheet from the linen closet and tossed it onto the chair. He'd worry about that later.

Downstairs, in the common kitchen, only Thor was around, sitting at the counter, eating yogurt and flipping through a magazine. He looked up when Tony entered.

"You look very distinguished this night, Anthony."

"Thor, when are you going to call me Tony?" he responded, hovering by the coffee machine but thinking better of it. He had just brushed his teeth; it wouldn't do if he actually got to kiss Steve to have coffee breath.

"The Allspeak makes nicknames difficult, but I promise to try."

"Thanks," Tony said, turning away from the pot and facing Thor. "Have you seen Steve? I need to talk to him."

Thor's eyebrows raised, "He is out. But I believe he will return shortly. Have you finally figured it out?"

Tony winced, "Does everyone know?"

"We do. It is about time you have...jumped on the bandwagon, so to speak." Thor had been trying to incorporate American colloquialisms into his speech, and though he often got them right, sometimes he was just enough off the mark to be funny.

"Something like that." Tony muttered, wound too tightly to correct him. "Listen, do you know if, I mean, does Steve...?" He trailed off, not sure how to phrase his question.

"Does Steven hold feelings for you?” He didn't wait for an answer. “Yes. He does."

One of the things Tony appreciated the most about the god was his remarkable ability to not beat around the bush (which was another saying Thor had picked up on.). He didn't sugar coat; he didn't try to save anyone's feelings. He was honest, and it was to Tony the greatest kindness.

Tony blew out the breath he didn't know he was holding. "So, if I were to, I don't know, go up to him and ask, what do you think would happen?"

"I think Steven would be ecstatic. I think the two of you will be very happy together."

Tony smiled, "And that's okay? I mean, it's not going to ruin the team or anything?"

Shaking his head, Thor replied, "On the contrary, I think it will make us stronger to see such a love between two teammates. On Asgard, falling in love with a shield brother or sister is considered the most pure form of love. There is no bond stronger."

The thought made Tony swell with joy. "That sounds really nice actually."

"Natasha tells me that you do not think you are good enough for our Captain."

"You all been doing a lot of talking about us, haven't you?" Tony said, his face unreadable.

"Yes. We have. We were getting fed up with your obliviousness, Ant-Tony. You both deserve the utmost happiness," Thor stated, pushing the yogurt cup away from him. "But I wish you to hear this now. You are a commendable warrior: stalwart, brave. You are prepared to sacrifice yourself for the greater good, and that is not just in battle. I do not think I have ever met a man more kind and deserving of true love. You _are_ worthy of Steven. And he is worthy of you."

Tony tried his best—he really did!—to blink away the tears that filled his eyes. Hearing it from Thor, of all people, made it sound so much more real. Doubt still swam inside him, but maybe, if Thor thought so...

"I don't exactly have the best track record, you know."

"And?" Thor said, standing to discard his empty snack into the garbage. "Is that not the great thing about being alive? We have the ability to correct our mistakes, to make better on our promises to those we care for." He turned to face Tony, putting his hands on either of his shoulders. "You are a good man. You always have been. Otherwise, why would you have instilled such loyalty from Miss Potts, from Colonel Rhodes? Even before your entrapment in Afghanistan, they loved you because they saw the kindhearted man you are, even if you tried to hide it."

The battle lost, Tony let the tears slip down his face. He tried for a joke, but all that came out was a stilted, "Boy, have you got me pegged."

Thor threw his head back and laughed heartily. "You are not as walled up as you would have us believe, friend. Now come, have a snack with me, while you wait for Steven."

"You just had a snack!"

"I take happiness in eating! It is an enjoyable activity, and Midgard has so many new foods to offer me. Let us see," he said, opening the refrigerator, "I do think I saw a rather delectable looking...aha! Here it is!" He emerged with a box, chocolate cake Bruce had bought the day before for a treat after he had finished phase one of his new experiment. "Acquire us some plates and utensils, my friend, and I shall get the milk and divvy up some of this sugary confection!"

Tony laughed as he turned toward the cupboards, wiping his eyes and snagging two dessert plates. "You know, I knew someone like you in college. He would get stoned off his ass and make anything and everything sound like the most delicious fucking thing in existence."

Thor was cutting through the cake, placing a heaping slice on one of the dainty dishes, and a more normal serving on the other. Tony sat next to Thor's vacated seat, picking up a fork and taking a bite. "God, that's good," he said as he chewed.

Pouring two glasses of milk, Thor handed one to Tony and sat next to him. "I believe in celebrating the little things. Smelling the roses, right?" He asked, looking to Tony for confirmation that he used the saying correctly. Tony nodded. "Cake is glorious. And it gives us a happiness that can lift our spirits, if only for a few moments. But sometimes, that is all we need, no?"

Tony thought. He mused over what Thor said, chewing on it like he was the cake. "I think you're right." He paused and looked at the god. "You're pretty wise, old man."

Thor chuckled, "I have been alive a long time compared to you. But I am still young among my people. Still learning."

Tony hummed in answer, taking another bite and following it with a sip of milk. "I am an idiot sometimes, though."

"As am I," Thor admitted with a grin. "But what is the fun of getting it right all the time? Imperfection is the fun of life. Learning is the icing, like this," he chuckled, swiping some icing on his finger and licking it off. "It makes things so much sweeter."

"My, but what a wealth of knowledge you are tonight." Tony joked.

"It has been known to happen. But, my friend, you seemed like you needed it."

"Guess I did."

"For what it is worth, I am sorry we spoke so behind your backs. It is only because we care so deeply."

Tony patted his shoulder, "I know." He scraped the rest of the cake from his plate and stood. "I'm gonna go to workshop for a few, clear my mind for a bit. Jarvis will let me know when Steve gets home." He sent Thor a cheeky grin, "You can go text the others now that I got my head outta my ass." He placed the dishes in the sink.

Thor laughed, helping himself to another slice. "I will do that."

Before Tony left, he turned to face Thor once more, "Thanks. I mean it."

Thor nodded, no other words needing to be said.

* * *

There were six folders on his computer of projects he needed to start or complete, six folders of things to do to get his mind off the upcoming conversation with Steve. Any one of those would have been a perfect distraction for him, something to delve into, to focus his brain on.

Not a single one held more interest to him other than the idea that maybe, just maybe, he could be with Steve.

So Tony sat at one of his work stations, staring blankly at his screens, his mind a rotating Ferris wheel of what Thor had said and all things Steven Rogers. The whirring of Dum-E and the subsequent poke to his side brought him back to reality.

"Huh?"

Dum-E poked him again and made an inquisitive sound. "Are you all right?" He seemed to be asking. Tony laid a comforting hand on him, smiling softly. Who said robots couldn't love?

"I'm okay," he mumbled, "I might be better than okay, you know, if everything goes how I hope it will tonight."

Butterfingers piped up from the corner, another sound blatantly asking what was going on.

"Daddy fell in love," Tony said simply. "And he thought the man he fell for couldn't possibly love him back, but there's a chance."

Another whir.

But Tony answered with no problem. He knew their language, even if he couldn't speak it back. "Steve. I fell in love with Steve." Dum-E spun around, his arm popping up and down. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep it a secret. I was just afraid of saying it out loud." The gentle nudge to his thigh had Tony smiling openly. His robots, essentially his children, were often the only things he could speak honestly around. That had started to change, with the formation of the team, but he still was the most transparent when it came to his creations.

"Sir," Jarvis spoke up quietly, "I have a confession to make."

"What's that, J?" Tony said, softly peering Dum-E.

"I knew it was Captain Rogers who wrote those stories. That is why I sent them to you."

"Jarvis. Dude. Are you for real right now?" Tony's head snapped up to glare at one of the cameras.

"Forgive me, sir, but you did program me to always carry your best interests to heart. Pardon the phasing."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I know you, sir. You needed to figure it out on your own."

Tony gave an empty laugh, thinking of all the time he wasted in denial. "So, like the Good Witch says to Dorothy, I had the power within me the whole time?"

"You just weren't ready yet."

"I'm ready now, J. Regardless of what he says. I need to know."

Jarvis paused, and his electronic voice was gentle and paternal when he spoke again. "Captain Rogers loves you. That much I know. Excuse me, sir, for being frank, but if he denies you, he's an absolute imbecile."

That startled a laugh from Tony. "Is he?"

"Only a human of sub-par intelligence would say no to you."

"Glad you think so."

"At the risk of sounding like an echo, I agree with Thor. You are worthy, sir. And if he can't see that, then he is not worthy of you."

Tony looked down, unable to fathom any world where Steve Rogers wasn't worthy of something. "How long have you known?"

"Despite never saying it aloud, and prior to the fanfiction, you are very easy to read."

Tony barked a laugh at that, "Oh, am I?"

"At least for me, sir. I could see it as clear as day. You hold so much love in your eyes."

"That's a little sappy, J." He chuckled, with a roll of his eyes.

"Sir, sappy does not mean it is not true."

"Thank you, Jarvis. For being a meddling fool."

"I'll take the complement and ignore the insult."

And Tony was laughing again, feeling so much better than he had before. "You do that!"

* * *

About ten minutes later, a gentle knock on the glass alerted him to Clint, standing outside the workshop in Christmas pajama pants, despite it being February, and a Halloween t-shirt. He wore Tweetie Bird slippers and held two steaming mugs in his hand. Tony told Jarvis to let him in. It wasn't like he was working anyway.

"Let me be the first to congratulate you." Clint smirked, sliding towards him like a child, skating with the slippers.

"Thor actually beat you to it."

"Mother fucker!"

"Wasn't he the one that told you?" Tony asked, pulling out a stool for Clint to sit on.

"Yeah, but I didn't think he'd be all...You know. Thor...ey."

Tony looked him up and down. "You're a child."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"About 220 million tons of old computers and other electronics are thrown away in the United States each year," Tony said cheekily.

"You're right, I didn't know that." Clint snarked back. "And I honestly don't care." He paused. "I need a new phone anyway."

"Box of the new Starkphones over there," Tony gestured with his head, taking the second mug from Clint's hands. "They come out next month."

"Oh, goodie!" Clint set his own mug down enthusiastically, spilling some of the liquid inside. Tony cursed and rushed to wipe it up before it hit one of his computers, but Clint was already across the room, digging through the box. "I want the blue one."

"You're a menace to society."

"So I've been told," Clint responded, coming up for air from the box when he found what he was looking for. "Eat shit, Apple."

"Now, see, that's why I keep you around. Brand loyalty."

"Really? Because I only keep you around for the free tech."

"Join the club," Tony laughed. "Come here, I'll help you set it up. And get Jarvis on it for you."

"Thor isn't the only god around here." Clint joked, walking—no, sliding—back to the work station. "Tony Stark! God of technology!"

"Now, if you could say that at the next award ceremony I'm forced to attend, that would be perfect." Taking the cellphone box from Clint's hand, he popped it open and pulled out the device. Clint sat next to him, picking up his drink and frowning as he looked into it.

"I thought this had more in it?"

Tony just gave him a look as he pressed the side of the phone to turn it on. "You'll be the coolest kid in New York City for about a month until everyone has one."

"I've always wanted to be cool."

Tony just chuckled and started typing out the intricate code to get Jarvis on the phone. Clint waited patiently until he was done, taking the phone back and swiping through it to get a feel. "Jarvis will walk you through set up now. Everything from your old phone should wirelessly transfer over."

"Including my bookmarks?"

Tony snorted at that. "Yes, including your bookmarks."

"Gotta say, love this whole fanfiction thing. People always write me cooler than I am."

"That's the second time you've downed yourself, Barton. Care to tell Mommy what's wrong?"

Clint laughed. "Nah, you know me. Self-depreciating humor is my spiel."

"That's why we get along," said Tony, "our best comedic material is ourselves."

"You know," Clint started seriously—and Tony took notice of that, "You are good enough for Steve."

"Et tu, Brute?"

"I'm just saying. You need to stop being so fucking hard on yourself, man." He shrugged.

"You're all really fucking annoying with that."

"It's a living."

Tony cracked up, "Fuck you, dick-bag."

"That," Clint said, holding up his pointer finger, "is now Steve's job."

"Not yet. He has to actually agree to date me first." Tony replied, picking up the empty cellphone box and opening and closing it, just to have something to do with his hands.

Clint snatched it away. "Mine."

"What are you? Twelve?" Tony chuckled, trying and failing to grab the box back.

"Thirteen, thank you."

"My apologies."

"Drink your cocoa, dumb-ass." Clint said, pointedly taking a sip of his own.

"Cocoa, huh?" Tony took a drink and hummed in appreciation. "I don't care how old you are. You're never too old for hot chocolate." He wrapped both his hands around the mug, savoring the warmth.

"Preaching to the choir!" Clint smiled. He appraised Tony for a moment, looking him over. Tony glared at him, quite sure where this was headed.

"Spit it out, Barton."

"Thor said you were upset."

Tony sighed, "I'm fine, really. This whole thing just had me all..." He wobbled in his seat to show his feelings, "discombobulated."

"Great word. But, you sure? I mean. He said...He said there were tears."

"Jesus Christ, relax." He responded, exasperated. "I'm okay. I promise. I just need to talk with Steve." At Clint's knowing look, he continued. "I got issues. My issues have issues. I know dating Steve won't fix them, but it's a start, okay? Don't worry your pretty little head."

The archer silently digested what he said before nodding. "Okay, Tones." He stood, tilting back his mug and emptying it down his throat. "But if you ever want to talk..."

"I know, Legolas."

"And if Steve ever breaks your heart and you need a quick fuck to begin the healing process, I'm your man."

Laughing, Tony joked, "There was a moment."

"I know, I know. It's gone now. Classic Clint and all that."

"We love you for it!"

Walking to the door, he called out over his shoulder, "At least I'm predictable!" And left. Once again leaving Tony to his thoughts.

* * *

"Sir," Jarvis spoke up, about a half hour later, "Captain Rogers is in the foyer of the building. He will be in the common rooms in approximately seven minutes."

After all the time waiting, it was down to seven minutes. Just seven measly minutes until Tony could ask, face to face, if Steve really wanted him too. Now was not the time to freak out. But he was, just a little. Just a smidge. A nano freak-out.

In the workshop bathroom mirror, Tony checked his hair, he checked his shirt, his jeans, making sure no cake or cocoa had fallen on them. He smoothed down his goatee, picked at invisible lint on his shoulder, and rubbed a spot on his boots. _No freak-out here at all!_

His appearance has always been his real armor. If he looked confident; he felt confident.

"Sir, Captain Rogers had reached the common rooms."

"Thanks, J. Wish me luck."

"All the luck in the world, sir. I am happy for you."

He took the elevator, using his last few seconds to try and calm his nerves. When he entered the living room, the rest of the team was there, and if they had popcorn and the television wasn't on, he didn't judge, just made an inquiring gesture, to which Natasha answered.

"Landing pad. He went out there with his laptop, like two minutes ago."

Tony nodded, but couldn't bring himself to move just yet.

It was Bruce who helped him. He stood and walked over to Tony, wrapping the man in a comforting hug. "You got this."

"I got this."

"Go get your man."

Tony smiled at that, hugging Bruce once more. They weren't often affectionate with each other, despite being so close. The hug empowered him, made him feel more worthy, more strong than he had since the realization hit.

As he past the couch, four heads turned to follow him, Thor and Clint noisily munching away.

"That's a little cliché, guys."

"We like clichés." Natasha smiled and made a 'go on' movement with her hands. As he opened the sliding glass doors, he heard her whisper, "movie's about to start! Dim the lights!"

And quite suddenly it was dark. The lights inside the living room hushed out, and Tony had to adjust his eyes to the ambient light of the city, light that framed Steve in a halo. His breath caught.

Steve sat, back to Tony, on the ground. Laptop open and scrolling through a Word document. Tony wondered what this story was about. He wondered at the way the city lights reflected off the blond locks, the way his shirt had ridden up—just a little in the back—leaving a smooth expanse of skin, and the way Steve's concentration was so wholly on his fictional world that he didn't hear Tony approach.

Tony sat next to him. "Hey."

And Steve jumped so high, he was briefly concerned the whole super soldier thing was a ruse. "Tony!" He moved to slam his laptop shut, but Tony stopped him, gently putting his hands on Steve's and slipping the device from him.

"Can I?"

Steve was stunned still. He nodded, once, and watched with wide eyes as Tony pulled the computer onto his own lap. "I want to see what you're working on now." Tony spoke softly, running his fingers over the keyboard. The same keys that helped write the stories that had started the whole thing; he imagined them warm with Steve's touch, the muted clicking sound they made as he typed away about all the things he wanted to do to Tony. It sent a shiver up his spine.

"Tony!" Steve gasped, suddenly all too aware of what the genius was about to see, but Tony quieted him.

"I know. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure out. I feel like I wasted so much time when all I've wanted was to be with you. If you'd have me, I mean." He looked down, self-conscious and unsure of himself all at once. "I know I don't have the greatest past, and I know I'm damaged. I just wondered if you'd have me anyway. Because you're all I think about." It was hard, baring himself like he was, opening up to the vulnerabilities he so often tried to hide.

Steve swallowed. "Can I kiss you?"

Tony's head snapped up at the familiar phase, a small smile growing on his lips. "Why?"

"Because I love you."

And Tony almost sobbed in relief. "Yes! Yes, you can kiss me! Jesus, Steve. I love you too." And he was laughing, and so was Steve. It was such an exhilarating feeling, so freeing. Like the first step outside after a long winter and it was finally warmer.

Steve's head ducked down to meet Tony's, his hands sliding up to cup his face, and they were kissing. Even when the laptop slid off Tony's lap and clattered to the ground as he moved to face Steve more fully, they didn't stop. When the cheers erupted from the dark inside the tower, they kept on. It was dizzying. It was perfect.

Steve's lips over his, his tongue dancing in his mouth, tasting all of him, and Tony, oh Tony. He felt the wetness on his cheeks and couldn't help but laugh again. Because he didn't think he had ever cried in happiness before this.

When they parted, it was with a great reluctance. Tony shivered from the cold and Steve stood in response, pulling Tony up with him. He bent down to grab his laptop. "Where's your new hoodie?" Steve remarked with a bit of cheek.

"I dressed for you tonight," Tony chuckled. "Didn't consider the fact that it's, you know. Winter."

"It's only 46 degrees."

"Have we met?"

Steve's hand slid around Tony's waist, pulling him closer, and moved his head to kiss down Tony's neck. Tony sighed, tilting his head to better accommodate, and let out a groan that had the soldier gripping him tighter; Steve felt so warm. He licked a line up Tony's neck, pulling back to speak. "I like you in my clothes."

"I'll make a habit of it." He shivered again.

"Come on," he said, taking Tony's hand and leading him to the door.

Tony nodded, "I want..I mean...I've been reading about it for so long now, and I just..."

Steve chuckled, "Me too." He tugged Tony's hand. "I want to make love to you, and every single fanfiction trope."

With a shy smirk, Tony pulled him in for another kiss, his hands going to Steve's hair, his body pressing against him. More urgently this time, trying to display without words how much he wanted this. Steve's arms went to his waist, the laptop bumping against his hip as he pulled him closer, bending Tony back slightly to deepen the kiss.

Tony's knees went weak. He had kissed countless people in his years, and none had sent such a voltage through him. How could one person cause so many emotions to flutter within his chest?

"Take me to bed, Steve." Tony breathed. Aware of his own cheesiness and for once not caring. All he wanted was to connect with Steve intimately.

"We have to walk past the peanut gallery first."

"Let them eat cake!" Tony laughed, tugging Steve's hand.

Steve put his arm around Tony's waist, and it fit so perfectly Tony almost welled up again. Almost. He had enough of tears to last a lifetime.

Together, they opened the doors and walked straight into a hustle of four nosy teammates, careening to find places to sit nonchalantly.

Natasha had managed the armchair, crossing her legs at the last minute and pretending to study her nails, Thor had tried to sit on the sofa, but missed entirely, thudding to the floor and acting for all the world that he meant to do it. Having managed to beat them all to a seat, Bruce looked the most natural, if only the scientific journal he had picked up wasn't upside down.

And Clint? Well, he really did try. He was half on the back of the couch, trying to get into his usual spot, but one leg was still on the floor. Slowly, without moving the rest of his body, he lifted his leg, staring off somewhere decidedly not Tony or Steve and hoping beyond hope that his movements were careful enough to not bring their gaze. As usual, he was about as subtle as a sledgehammer.

"Smooth like butter." Tony snarked as he and Steve made their way past them.

A soft voice sounded in the dark. It could have been Clint, but Tony was sure it was Natasha.

"Is butter a carb?"

Laughter echoed behind them as they left the room and headed to the elevator, hands still clasped. Steve rounded on Tony as soon as they stepped foot inside, kissing him again. And as the doors closed, another voice spoke loudly into the darkness, "That's why her hair is so big." Other voices joined in. "It's full of secrets!"

But Tony barely heard them. He was wrapped up in Steve's arms, the laptop forgotten on the floor, surrendering himself to the kisses, his body trembling with the need to be close.

"You don't mind?" Steve asked, pulling back and resting his forehead against Tony's.

"Mind what?"

"That I wrote all those stories."

Tony's laugh was bright, "Steve, are you aware of what I did to those stories?" Steve shook his head. "I touched myself. Every time. I imagined it was you, your hands, your fingers...your tongue."

Tony could feel the shiver that ran through Steve's body. "You did?"

"You know that. You saw."

Steve's eyes widened. "I did. I guess I was, I don't know, it was too much to hope for: that it was me. And not just some character."

"All you." And they were kissing again, and Tony could swear if he had nothing else in his life but the ability to keep doing this, he'd be the happiest man in the world.

Steve pulled back, a smile playing on his lips, "Why do you taste like chocolate?"

"Apparently, the rest of the team thought it was the best choice in comfort foods today."

The blond reared back slightly at that, looking concerned. "Why did you need comforting?" Steve asked, his brow furrowing. He eyes flitted over Tony's face, searching for an answer.

"I'm fine," Tony replied, taking Steve's face in his hands and kissing him again. _Less talky talky,_ Tony was thinking, _and more fucky fucky._

"Are you sure?" Steve asked, pulling back yet again, much to Tony's consternation.

"I'm sure."

"You'd tell me, right?" He cupped Tony's face, gently rubbing his thumbs back and forth across his cheeks. Eyes closing, Tony leaned into the touch. _Okay, this was nice too._

"I promise. I know we need to do the whole...honesty thing. I just..." he sighed, turning his head to kiss one of Steve's palms. "I just need you right now."

Steve bent Tony's neck forward to kiss his head. It was so gentle, so loving, so much of everything Tony didn't even know he needed. "I know. I want to know it all, Tony. The good and the bad."

Tony laughed self-consciously. "You sure you want to know the bad? You know, it's me," he tried to smile, "I'm kinda a lot."

"You're incredible." He pulled Tony's head to his chest, wrapping his arms around him. They stood that way for several moments, until the elevator dinged. Steve didn't let him go, just guided Tony into the penthouse living room so they wouldn't get shut in the elevator again.

And Tony laid his head in Steve's chest and just breathed. He was so up and down about everything. He wanted Steve, needed to be with him because he had never, in all his life, felt this type of love. This type of connection.

But Steve didn't know everything about him. He didn't know all the darkness Tony had coiled up in his body. His guilt, his irresponsibility...hell, half the baggage that came with him he inherited from his father. Some were created by him. Casual neglect. High expectations. A small child with a brilliant brain who was never good enough.

It wasn't that Tony didn't think Steve could handle it. On the contrary, he knew he could. It was that Steve didn't deserve to have to deal with the trauma that came with dating Tony Stark.

For all his bravado, his money, his genius...all his bad jokes and sarcasm...He was just a damaged man, trying to make a difference.

“Tony,” Steve's voice was a mere whisper. “Talk to me.”

Steve's heartbeat under his head was lulling, the steady beats giving him something to ground himself with. "Can't you just make love to me, in your stupidly sweet way, and we can talk about this in the morning?" That sounded like a damn good plan, right? They _would_ talk. Just not right away. For the moment, Tony really needed physical connection.

"No."

Tony felt his chest tighten. "Do you want me? I thought you wanted me." He couldn't have misread the situation that badly! Not with all the kissing and the touches and the--

"Tony," sighed the quiet man above him, his arms around the genius closing tighter, "You have no idea how much I want you. Don't ever think I don't." Tony felt his lips on the top of his head. "I want all of you. Everything. But you gotta let me in. We can't start this-this wonderful thing we're starting if you have doubts. About me or about you."

"Steve," Tony was trying so hard to open up, so hard to let the words out. He had said as much to Natasha, to Thor, even a bit to Clint. Why was it so hard to say it Steve?

Because Steve might turn him away. He might agree with him and wise up. So every time Tony tried to force himself to say the words, the sounds got caught in his throat.

Steve tilted Tony's head up and kissed him again, and Tony felt the passion, the love, and the acceptance. Once more, his eyes started to fill. He pulled away, frustrated with himself.

"What am I? A little girl?" He spat out, furiously wiping his eyes. "Three times in one day, for real?"

Steve crossed his arms, looking amused and concerned at the same time, a vision so wholly Steve it had Tony almost laughing. But as hard as he tried to smile or crack a joke, he couldn't. His eyes spilled over.

"I'm huge fucking mess, Steve. You sure you want to open this particular can of worms?"

"What is it, Tony? Talk to me." He moved to step closer, but thought better of it, giving Tony a little bit of space, just for the moment.

"Steve, I just...ugh!" The anxiety within him put a stop to the confession. Again. He sputtered for a moment, throwing his arms up in frustration. "You're just so...and I'm just...I mean, look at you!" He was gesturing wildly back and forth, to Steve and back to himself, then back to Steve. "And then there's me. And you! You're so good and perfect and me? I'm just...I'm just Tony."

There. He said it. Kind of.

But Steve's eyes widened. Apparently, he spoke 'Tony,' because something clicked and he understood the words buried underneath the stilted and jumbled mass of verbs and nouns that tumbled out of the genius' mouth.

"You idiot!" He yelled, but there was a smile on his face. "Don't ever, for one second think you're not good enough for me. Oh, for Christ's sake, Tony." His eyes rolled to ceiling in exasperation, "I love you! And that means loving all of you! You think I don't got issues?”

It took everything for Tony to shut his trap and not respond. He was starting to learn that he didn't need to have an answer for everything.

“Tony, just wait until the first time my temper flares over something stupid! Or how I hoard food like I'm never going to eat again.” He shook his head disparagingly. “And the nightmares, don't get me started on those! Tony, damn, Tony." He threw him arms out, giving it all he had. "We're all a little bit of a mess. But that doesn't mean you're not good enough."

Again, Tony bit back a retort. _Just listen, Stark! For once in your life! Listen!_ The voice in his head sounded strangely like Natasha's.

Calming, Steve walked forward and took Tony's face in his hands. "I have never met a man like you before. Ever. Your heart is unique. You're full of so much love, so much compassion and kindness, and you try so hard to hide it, so no one gets close but it just...It bursts from you. I know you're a mess. We all are. But, Tony, you idiot. I still fell in love with you. Because I see beyond the hurt you've experienced. I see you. And you're wonderful. And I'm choosing you. Your mess is my mess. And my mess is your mess. Forever."

"Say 'mess' again." And they were laughing, and Steve was kissing his face, peppering them all over his cheeks, his chin, his forehead...

"Tony, if I were writing this scene, I'd pick you up and take you bed and show you just how much I love you, regardless of your flaws. Because we're still human, and we're going to have flaws. And that doesn't mean one person is better than another. It just means we're different. And I really like that."

"But you're super human."

"And you're a super genius! So what's your point?" He stepped back, taking Tony's hands, and smiling. "You're so much smarter than I could ever hope to be. Do you think I'm too dumb to be with you?"

"What? No!" Tony looked offended on Steve's behalf. "You're not even close to dumb, first of all." His sass was starting to come out, which was a very good thing.

"I'm not even half as intelligent as you are."

"But that doesn't matter to me!"

Raising his eyebrows, Steve gave him a pointed look. "Do you get it now? I don't care that you're not perfect, anyway, I'm not even close myself. I like you better this way. I love you not perfect. I love your flaws because they make you who you are. I want to be with you, I want to help you heal from everything that's happened to you, just like I know you want to help me. And I'm not saying it's an overnight fix. These things take time. But, Tony, we have the rest of our lives to figure that out."

"I know," Tony took a deep breath, sobering, "I know. It's just...I can't make the thoughts go away." Somehow, it was the most revealing thing Tony had ever said. But Steve understood.

"We'll work on it. Do you trust me?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation. His brown eyes connected with Steve's, open and honest in his answer.

"Then trust us as well." Steve said, pulling Tony's body against his, "trust this." He put one hand over his own heart, and the other over Tony's.

"That's really lame. I thought better of you."

Steve just smiled and shook his head. "Point still stands. It's not about being worthy, Tony. It's about me loving you, and you loving me. And nothing else matters."

"You are really super duper lame."

But Steve did speak Tony fluently, after all. The return of the sarcasm meant the point had been comprehended. It meant that Tony understood. It wasn't a fix for his insecurities, but it was a start.

"Besides," Steve said, his hands running down Tony's back to grip his bottom, "perfect implies normal and that's infuriatingly boring." In one movement, he hoisted Tony up, happy to hear that he actually did squeak when unexpectedly manhandled, just like he had imagined in his fanfiction. "And we're not normal." He cheeked, "Our relationship catalyst was me writing about us having sex for our fans."

Tony wrapped his legs around him, holding onto Steve's shoulders and laying a chaste kiss on his neck. "Glorious, glorious porn."

Steve laughed in answer. "Was it?" He snorted.

"Yeah, you got a dirty mind, you filthy old man."

"Wanna see how dirty?"

"Is that even a question? I seem to remember in the last story this was the part where you threw me on the bed and fucked my brains out." Tony's eyes darkened, and he rocked his hips against Steve.

"Oh, is it?"

"Mmhmm."

Steve began walking towards the bedroom. "I love you."

With a blush, Tony hid his face in Steve's neck. "You're gonna be bad for my reputation."

"What reputation?"

He giggled. Tony Stark legitimately giggled. "I love you too, you know." And Steve laid him on the bed, pausing to kick his shoes off and help Tony with his before laying between Tony's legs and kissing him like it would save both their lives.

And maybe it would.

Tony's knees bent upwards, his feet lifting to wrap around Steve, and giving only a slight warning to compliment the mischievous look in his eyes when Steve finally pulled back.

"What are you planning, Stark?"

Instead of answering, he brought his hands down Steve's back to grip his ass and pull him closer, grinding his hips up to rock their cocks together. Steve's mouth fell open into a little 'o,' his hands falling to Tony's shoulders to steady himself as he pushed back against him, rotating his midsection. _Two could play at this game_ , his eyes said in an unspoken huff.

Tony's head fell back, his eyes closing as he let out a low moan that sent a jolt of arousal through Steve's body. They rocked, frotting against one another, building in speed and intensity. It was so hard to stop, to cease the friction that was bringing them so close, despite it being through their jeans. It felt so good to have Steve pressed along his body, covering him. And Tony gripped tighter, letting his legs fall to the side to give Steve better access. His breath was coming in pants, his body tight with the impending orgasm, but Steve had more self-control than anyone gave him credit for.

He snatched himself away, leaning up and standing, trying hard to get his body back under control.

"Oh, what the ever loving fuck, Rogers!"

"Too soon." He panted, putting his hands on his knees, "I want to come inside you."

That got Tony's attention. "Oh, fuck yeah. Do that."

Steve laughed, a pure sound, cutting through the sexuality of the moment. "Too many clothes for that just yet."

"Oh? Then why don't you get these things off me."

The smirk Tony received in response did nothing to warn him of what Steve had in mind. "I don't think I will."

"Steve!"

He hopped back into the bed, this time at the top, letting the back of his head rest against his hands, his ankles crossing. "Strip for me, Anthony. Let me see you."

Tony's throat made a sound. He nodded and stood. This was new. Usually his partners took their clothes off for him. He wasn't actually sure he could do this. And for Tony to not be good at something, well, that was a fucking travesty. He tried to think back to all the times he'd witnessed others display themselves. Hookups, porns, even strippers.

He was clumsy; the removal of his shirt went fine, that was the easy part. But his jeans? He unbuttoned them and got the zipper down without messing up. Even was able to slowly wriggle his hips so the jeans slipped down just enough up tantalize Steve with the dips in his lower stomach.

It all went horribly wrong in the removal part though. There was no sexy way to get them off his feet, and though he tried, he ended up bent over, hopping on one foot as the right leg got caught on his heel. And when he tried to get the other off, he straight up fell over.

"Tony! Are you okay?" Steve's head popped over the edge of the bed.

Tony looked up from his place on the floor. "Never better."

And Steve laughed again, reaching down to grab the jeans and tug them off.

"That worked better in the movies."

"Did it?"

"I was doing so well too."

Steve held his hand out, pulling Tony to his feet. "How about I help with the rest?"

"Oh sure, now that the hard part is already done!"

"Is it?" Steve purred. He let his fingers trail along the waistband of the briefs, dipping into the front, and pulling them down until Tony's hard-on popped out. "Now that's pretty."

"What are you going to do with it?" Tony slyly asked as Steve let the silk drop to the floor. He stepped out of them with much more grace, proud of himself until Steve leaned over and took the head of his cock into his mouth and Tony's knees buckled. "Oh fuck!"

Steve's hands flew to Tony's waist, gripping to hold him up, while he mouthed his way down the length and gave one long lick upwards. Tony's body gave a jolt. "Shit, you're good at that. Had practice then?"

He kissed his thigh, "No, actually. But had to do a lot of research for the stories."

Chuckling, Tony ran his fingers through Steve's hair. "Never thought I'd actually get to see this. To have you do this."

In answer, Steve took him in his mouth again, bobbing his head lightly and pressing his tongue along the base as he did so. His hands slipped down Tony's waist to his hips, and he kneaded the flesh softly, dipping his head to suck lightly on the underside, until he hit the base, where he pressed a small kiss. "C'mere." He said, pulling Tony to the bed and gently laying him down. "Let me take care of you." And he was pushing Tony's legs up, kissing along his thighs, pressing his tongue where his leg and body met, and teasingly nipping at the skin of his ass.

Never before had Tony felt so on fire with arousal without having all that much attention paid to his cock. His body was trembling with need, and Steve was still fully dressed. Tony clawed at his shirt, trying to pull it over the blond's head, and Steve laughed quietly.

"I got this," he smirked, pulling from Tony's grasp and standing. To music only he heard, he swayed. Pulling his shirt over his head and dipping his fingers, teasingly, at the waistband of his jeans. He was putting a show on for Tony. The button popped open, and he was halfway into lowering the zipper when Tony sat up to reach for him. "Too slow!" He whined impatiently, grabbing at the zipper.

Steve batted his hand away, and finally, finally! lowered the pants. He stepped out of them with grace and Tony huffed at yet another thing Steve was flawless at. He'd show him! If he had to learn to pole dance, he'd do it! Just to upstage Steve at his own game. Because the strip tease he was receiving had Tony so hard he was almost aching. He wanted so badly to touch himself but refused. After all the stories, he at last had the real thing. He wasn't going to waste it with a quick handy.

Steve's boxers were tented in a way that had Tony leaning forward to get his own taste, mouthing over the fabric, and dampening it with his tongue. Steve's breath caught.

"God, you are so beautiful."

Tony tugged the waistband down and was rewarded with the first sight of Steve's cock. Eight inches, at least, and a girth that absolutely looked the perfect size to fill Tony up, but not make him uncomfortable. "Speaking of beautiful," he purred, darting his tongue out to taste the precome that danced on the tip. Steve groaned, low in his throat.

"What do you want?" Tony asked, looking up at him, lips swollen with kisses and his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks. He looked so pretty, so alluring, Steve could hardly contain himself.

"What you're doing is perfect."

Tony gave him a shy grin, and boy, was that turning Steve on. A timid Tony? He wasn't really (at least not usually), Steve knew this, but just the thought had him quaking. There was something about this that had Tony slowing down. With his other partners, it was just a chance to get off, which was always more fun with friends, but this? This was what he had longed for. He was nervous, but so ready.

Tony's mouth closed around him, wrapping his lips over his teeth, and using his hand as a guide, sucking Steve hard and fast, the soldier gasping and clinging to Tony's hair, his hips stuttering as he fought to keep himself still. "Oh, Tony, oh, God..." He was moaning, head dropped forwards and eyes clenched shut. "Tony, fuck!"

The curse had Tony groaning, the heat of it sending ripples down his spine.

"Tony, oh my god, Tony!" The self-control was back as Steve pushed Tony's head away, "Wait, shit! Not yet!" It was harder this time. But he had a goal, and he meant to keep it.

"In you. I want to come in you! Fuck. Please!"

His grip of Tony's hair lessened, afraid that he might have hurt him, but Tony just nuzzled his hip. "I like that. Do it. Pull my hair, Steve."

"And you say you're not perfect."

Tony grinned widely. "Did I just discover a Steven Rogers kink? Do you like pulling hair?"

With a coy smirk, Steve tugged again on Tony's locks. "What do you think?"

"I think we'll have to explore that later. For now," he hooked his arm around Steve's waist and pulled him onto the bed and laid next to him, both on their sides, "let's get on with that whole coming inside me thing you've been going on about."

"You really do got a smart mouth." A little bit of Brooklyn slipped through and Tony was surprised at the way it tingled through him.

"Genius," he mumbled instead, kissing Steve's arm.

Leaning up, Steve reached over him to pull open one of the nightstand drawers, "Don't even try to tell me it's not in here." He sassed, grabbing the bottle of lube, He turned back to Tony, holding not only the bottle, but the dildo and the vibrator. "And what's this?"

"I like to fuck myself when I read your stories."

Steve visibly moaned, "That's...that's so sexy." He closed his eyes, imagining. "Not tonight, but fuck, I want to use them on you."

"God yes."

Tossing them back into the drawer, Steve got up on his knees. "But for now," he gently pushed Tony onto his back and pulled his knees apart. Tony's hips moved, ever so slightly, at the want of friction. "You're okay with this?"

"I've been praying for this, Cap."

"Hallelujah." He kissed Tony's right knee and slid his hands down his inner thighs. "Show me."

"Show you what?"

"Show me that gorgeous ass."

Tony moaned, "The cursing is really sexy. Never thought I'd say that. Can't believe Captain America is a potty mouth."

Steve laughed, "I'm a soldier, Tony. Honestly, not that innocent."

"So I'm learning."

"Let me see." Steve had a one-track mind. He pushed at the underside of Tony's knees just a little, nudging him in the right direction. Who was Tony to say no? He brought them up, opening his ass up, exposing his hole.

"Good news. I was fucking myself when I figured out it was you, only a few hours ago. With both toys at once. So not much prep work."

"Oh fuck." Steve breathed in awe. Tony's hole was still opened from his earlier fun. "Not much for me to do, huh?"

"Guess not. I did all the hard work. Again." He snorted.

"Doesn't mean I can't play." The bottle was popped open and Steve coated his fingers. "Do you open yourself? Do you use your fingers first?" He pushed two in.

Tony let out a soft, high pitched whimper. "Yes. Yes, I use my fingers first. I really love it."

"So you said." His grin was devilish. A good look on him. "And how sensitive is that prostate, really?"

Tony was about to answer when Steve crooked his fingers up and his back arched, a loud moan spilling out of him.

"Quite a bit, I see."

"Fuck, yes, it's sensitive, oh god, do it again!"

Steve complied, pressing his fingers into it and rubbing back and forth. Tony gasped, his arms flailing out to grip the bed and his hips lifting, trying to hump himself on the digits, to get more of that amazing pressure on the gland.

"Oh my god." Awe. That's what it was. Awe at how reactive Tony was, how sensitive that spot inside him turned out to be.

"Jesus. Fuck! I need you to fuck me!"

"Patience, my angel," Steve muttered, still not done watching him, just yet. "Damn, Tony. You are so beautiful. Do you know that?"

"Steve," Tony whined. But the soldier wasn't having it.

"I want to explore every inch of you, Tony. I've wanted you, loved you! for so long." He paused, stilling his fingers. "I need you to know, unequivocally, how much I love you."

Tony's breaths were short, his diaphragm heaving, he was so incredibly aroused to begin with—filled with so much love already!—he didn't know how Steve could make him feel even more. But he did. When Steve pulled his fingers out and climbed up his body, Tony didn't even complain, just wrapped his arms around Steve's broad shoulders and allowed the same to be done to him.

"How do you do it?"

"What's that?" Steve asked, lavishing kisses on his neck.

"All day they've been trying." Tony started. "All day. Telling me I'm worthy. That I'm good enough. And you just...So completely." His point needed to be made clearly, so he dropped his head back onto the pillow, looking Steve in his eyes. Those blue, blue eyes, like the sky after a storm, when the sun pushes its way past the clouds. "You make me feel safe. Secure. Like what's in my past, for once, doesn't matter."

The honesty. It was hard to comprehend. That he could open up so wholly to one person. That for the first time in his life, he didn't feel the anxiety of having someone know what went on in his head.

It was the most spectacular thing that had ever happened to him. And that was saying something.

"Tony." Steve said quietly. "You-" he sighed and tried again. "I felt like I missed so much. Lost so much. But you, you somehow gave it all back to me."

God, it was so cliché. It was ridiculous. Pouring their hearts out when they should be fucking like rabbits. But it felt so good.

Kissing his shoulder, Steve ran his hands up Tony's side, letting just the whispers of his fingertips graze his skin. He leaned down, taking one of Tony's nipples into his mouth, sucking on it, caressing it with his tongue. Tony whimpered, his hands going to Steve's head, "oh fuck."

Moving to the other, Steve asked, "You like that?" Before taking it into his mouth and pressing his tongue against it.

"Yes, oh, shit. Yes!"

He released it and moved to hover over the arc reactor, looking at Tony for permission.

He nodded, his body slightly tense at the thought of someone else touching it. But Steve was careful, sweet. He kissed the center, the scars around it, so reminiscent of one of the stories, but somehow so real. Tony wondered how long he had wanted to do that.

"You created this. It's beautiful. Just like you are." And he pressed one hand over it, feeling the warmth of it, the slight hum.

With his other hand, he pushed Tony's knees up again. "Do you have a condom?"

"Yeah, but I'm clean. I mean, if you don't mind. Are you? I want to feel you."

Steve nodded and sat back to use the lube on himself, tossing the bottle to the other side of the bed when he was done, and replacing his hand over the arc reactor. "I love you." And he slid in, completely.

"Oh my God...!" Tony moaned. Steve was about as close to a perfect fit as he could possibly be. No one had ever filled him so wholly ever before. "That feels amazing and you haven't even moved yet!"

Steve's fingers ran the length of Tony's arms and down his wrists, clasping his hands on either side of his head, and he slowly pulled out, moaning at the feeling. "Tony," he gasped, and pushed back in.

"Oh God, please, please!" Tony was trembling with need, so the next time Steve pulled out, he thrust back in faster, a little harder. Picking up speed with each stroke.

Tony clenched around him, his body writhing with desire, hips undulating to meet each drive inside him. It took a few tries, but Steve found the angle perfect for hitting his prostate on every inwards push, knew he had found it when Tony keened, his back arching, moaning Steve's name over and over.

"Steve! Oh, fuck, there! There! Oh God, Steve, right there!"

He latched onto Tony's neck, sucking the skin, moving his body so the thrusts were deep, his hands moving to cup Tony's face, so pressed against him they felt like one person.

In between their sweating bodies, Tony's cock rubbed against Steve's abdomen, leaking and smearing his precome against their skin. His arms wrapped around the solid back of the soldier, hands splaying along his shoulder blades. Steve pressed his body down, to rub against Tony's cock, eliciting moans and pants from the smaller man.

"Tony, oh god," one hand snaked in between them and wrapped around Tony's erection, stroking him, squeezing hard, and flicking his thumb over the head. "Fuck, Tony. Come for me."

"Steve!" Tony moaned, his fingers digging into him, "oh god. Just like that!" His arms hooked under Steve's, coming up to wrap around his shoulders. "So close, Steve, right there! I'm so close!"

"Come, baby, show me how you come."

He screamed. "Steve!" And his world exploded in a burst of white, his cock spurting his seed in ropes upon ropes across his stomach, his legs shaking in the intensity.

Steve was absolutely awestruck by him. Completely infatuated with how one man could be so beautiful. He kept thrusting, moaning as his balls drew in tight, and Tony tightened his muscles around him, holding him and whispering love into his ears as Steve moved.

With a kiss, and his hands on either side of Steve's face, Tony spoke in a husky voice. "Come in me, Steve. Fill me up. I want to feel you. Oh, God, Steve, I love you so much!"

It wasn't much longer, the heat had built too greatly over the course of their lovemaking, the need over the duration of their knowing each other. His hips seized momentarily as he tumbled over the edge, his orgasm rocking his entire body, coming into Tony, filling him, still thrusting, though less controlled, the fucking so deep that some of it was pushed out through the force of it. His whole body was shaking as he came back down, his movements finally slowing to a stop.

For a few moments, the only sound was their panting, as they fought to regain composure, holding each other in the aftermath, pure bliss dripping from their bodies.

Tony spoke first. "Jesus H Christmas." And Steve laughed.

"Yeah, something like that."

"So much better than the stories. You don't give yourself enough credit."

Laughing, Steve carefully pulled from him. "I didn't hurt you?"

"God no, that was incredible."

Kissing him sweetly, Steve gently lowered Tony's legs. "Be right back." He stood, his body shaking from the intensity, and walked to the bathroom. He started a bath in the large tub, digging through the cabinets looking for bubble bath but finding some essential oils that he was sure had to have come from Pepper at some point. Tony watched him through the doorway sleepily, smiling as Steve readied towels and checked the water's temperature, adding the oils and swirling his hand to mix them.

When he returned, he kissed Tony again and lifted him into his arms like he weighed nothing at all. "Steve!" He protested, but it was all in show. To feel so cared for, so loved...he didn't think he could ever adequately elucidate what that was like.

The heat from the water was heaven on his body, but nothing compared to the way Steve had so gently placed him into the tub. Tony leaned forward so Steve could climb in behind him, and rested his back against Steve's chest, sitting in his lap.

"This is wonderful." He murmured, his forehead pressed into the side of the soldier's neck.

"Yeah, it is." They stayed just like that for a long while. Each fitting comfortably against the other, and basking in the warmth and the closeness, Tony humming softly a tune Steve didn't recognize. It was slow and sweet.

Retrieving one of the washcloths he had placed at the edge of the tub, Steve lathered it up with body wash, eucalyptus, the same scent Tony used daily.

He washed both of them, going from Tony's arms to his chest, reaching around to clean his stomach and finally slip in between his legs to carefully wash there. If he was worried he hurt Tony, that fear abated quickly when Tony moaned at the feeling.

Steve smirked, grabbing the other washcloth and making quick work of his own body.

It took him a second before he realized that, as he was occupied cleaning himself, Tony was busy trying to undo all of Steve's hard work on his own body. His hands had gone under the water and under his himself, fingers slipping inside to touch where Steve's cock had been, not that long ago.

Tony was honestly shocked with himself. It was rare indeed that he was able to go for round two, but in the water, his cock was swelling. And he could feel Steve growing harder behind him.

"What you do to me," Tony moaned.

"Likewise," Steve chuckled, a bit strained at the feeling of hardness between his legs.

He kissed the back of Tony's neck and lifted him by his hips. Tony helped by bracing himself on the tub as Steve lined his cock up and slipped inside him once more.

"Oh, God. Do you know how good you feel in me?"

It was softer, somehow, and sweeter. They were exhausted, the movements measured and slow, Steve sleepily fucking up into him, his hand around the genius' dick. Tony rolled his hips, bringing Steve in and out as he moved, the positioning perfect for direct stimulation to his prostate. His right arm up and cupping the back of Steve's head, his own pressed against the hard shoulder behind him.

The water sloshed dangerously close to the edge as they neared the end, picking up some speed, growing desperate for that second release, their soft moans filling the steamy bathroom.

Steve came first this time, once again filling Tony. He groaned into the smaller man's neck, breathing in the scent of eucalyptus and sex, his hand picking up the pace on Tony's cock.

After that, it wasn't long before Tony was shuddering into the water, coming again.

Steve pulled the drain and turned on the shower head, tugging it down by the hose and almost hitting himself in the face; they both laughed at that, tired, but so immeasurably happy. He washed Tony's, then his own hair, and rinsed them both. Tony lay boneless, and Steve stood up when the water had fully emptied and carried some of the towels into the bedroom to lay on the bed, remembering at the last minute that he should probably change the sheets.

Instead of doing so, he just tugged the fitted sheet off and laid down a fresh top sheet that had been folded on a chair. On top, he placed the towels. When he went back into the bathroom, it was to clumsily wrap a towel around Tony's waist and lift him, again, into his arms. On the bed, he placed Tony on the towels and dried him.

Though half asleep, Tony grabbed one of the dry ones to wipe the water from Steve's own skin. The towels were pushed lazily to the floor and the blankets pulled up, Tony curling into Steve's chest.

"I love you." He would never get sick of saying that.

Steve smiled and kissed his forehead. "I love you too."

And they slept.

In the early hours of the morning, when Steve woke, feeling rejuvenated like he hadn't in so long, he silently crept into the living room and into the elevator to retrieve his laptop where he had left it.

At Tony's desk in the bedroom, in the early light of New York City, he began typing. The soft clicks quiet as he worked the keys to title his new story.

" _Kudos_." He wrote. " _By StonyFan1918_."

_**The end.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the closure of this fic, I wonder if anyone is interested in a sequel? I do have another group chat pic that I created to help me plan the last chapter, I had no intention of using it, but I will post it as a one-shot to this story if anyone wants to read it.
> 
> If anyone would like to see a sequel, what would you love to see in it?
> 
> Thank you for coming along for the ride! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed. :)


	9. Surprise Bonus Content!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I had created this chat as a way to plan out the last chapter and had never intended to share it, but then I figured, what the hell? It's fun, it made ME laugh while making it, and maybe you guys would enjoy it as well. So, enjoy some campy bonus content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone got a good chuckle!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Fanart for Kudos by StonyFan1918 by RiaRose](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23693635) by [maythecat12 (orphan_account)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/maythecat12)




End file.
